


The green light of forgiveness

by Juliet23



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Clarke is a sweet self-sacrificing cookie, F/M, Fighting, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Minor Becho, Minor Character Death, Pining, bellamy is a stubborn ass who hates talking feelings, even Murphy can't deal with Bellamy's pity party, friends to strangers to lovers, it gets a lot worse before it gets better, minor clexa - Freeform, they are "platonic" best friends... obviously, this is still a Bellarke fanfiction but angst is angst and I'm not sorry, we been knew
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-18 05:22:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28737942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Juliet23/pseuds/Juliet23
Summary: Bellamy knows he fucked up. Admitting it to himself is easy. Talking things through with Clarke and actually apologising and explaining himself? Yeah, that's the tough part. But time is running out and he has to do something.Or: the one in which Bellamy and Clarke have a fight and he spends weeks wondering how to mend it, but even when he has the chance he can't manage to croak out the right words.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, Bellamy Blake/Echo, Clarke Griffin/Lexa, Emori/John Murphy (The 100), Octavia Blake/Lincoln
Comments: 33
Kudos: 102





	1. Across our great divide

_There'll be happiness after me_  
 _But there was happiness because of me_  
 _Both of these things, I believe_  
 _There is happiness_  
 _In our history, across our great divide._  
Happiness - Taylor Swift

“Clarke… I know I probably shouldn’t have done that, in hindsight everything seems so clear, but maybe if you had been in my shoes you’d understand that- shit.” He exhaled, dropping his hands on either side of the sink, “this is never going to work, is it?” His reflection stared back at him from the bathroom mirror. He could see his tired eyes growing frustrated. It had been two weeks, _two weeks_ , of ignoring each other and, rationally, he knew he had to be the one to put a stop to this. Obviously, the fact that his sister and all their other friends had taken her side didn’t help. Only Murphy kept talking to him, because _of course_ he did. That bloke would take every chance he had to rub it in face.

He walked to his living room dejected and almost had a heart attack seeing said guy sitting on his couch like he owned the place, biting into an apple.  
“For fuck’s sake Murphy, what are you doing here? How did you even get in?”  
Murphy took a pair of keys from his cargo pockets and jingled them in front of him, a casual shit-eating grin on his face.  
“Where did you even get them from?! Those are my spare keys!” This was not a good moment. Bellamy had been frustrated from before and, honestly, Murphy somehow breaking into his house was definitely not what he needed. What he did need, in fact, was a bottle of moonshine, a book, and silence which he could fill with self-deprecating thoughts and made-up scenarios of how he could go about apologising to Clarke. Murphy making constant snide-remarks about him did not fit well into his evening plans.  
“No shit, Sherlock, they’re the ones you hide in the second drawer of your bedside table. Figured since neither you nor Clarke needed them, I could call dibs.”  
Bellamy sighed – of course he’d steal them. Just so he could come here while he was at his psychological worst and _gloat_. Because he had been right all along. Not that he would ever tell Murphy that. “Hope the apple you stole from my pantry was worth the trip, because that’s all you’re going to get”, he said while heading towards the kitchen to grab a drink.  
Murphy followed him, _of course_. “You know, I know it’s crazy, but I think this would all be much easier if, and really listen to me for once, you just… talked to her” he told Bellamy with his smug smile. For a second, Bellamy thought that his life must truly be miserable if he always had to resort to annoy everyone around him for pleasure, but he actually had to admit that at least Murphy had a loving girlfriend and their friends weren’t mad at him (this time). Besides, he had a point.  
“No shit, Sherlock” he bit back with a sickeningly-sweet, sarcastic tone. Unfortunately, that only made Murphy’s grin wider, and he remembered why you should never agree with what the douche says.  
“Well, then why haven’t you done that?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.  
Bellamy sighed again. He poured two shots of moonshine, silently passing one to his friend, who whispered a satisfied “ah, that’s the shit” before downing it.

After doing the same, he slumped on the couch, nervously passing his hand through his hair. Talking to Murphy was easy, or at least it should have been. He was always straight to the point, didn’t care to sugar-coat things, and had absolutely no filters –except if you started talking about feeling. Plus, by now Bellamy had gone through everything that happened at least a hundred times on his own. He knew what the issue was. He just wasn’t sure talking was enough to fix it, or indeed what to even tell her in the first place. Should he start by explaining his feelings or by apologising? Should he mention his reasoning for behaving that way, or would it make her become defensive?  
“Dude” Murphy interrupted his mental monologue “I know you well enough to know that I could never torture you as much as you torture yourself”. They shared a glance and Bellamy snickered. Well, that was true. “And I know Clarke well enough to know that she’ll forgive you if you just _talk_ to her. She won’t understand, unless you tell her the full story, sure, but she’ll forgive you. And the others will come around to it too, once she does. Even your sister.” He gave him a pointed look, and he knew he was right.  
“Murphy… we aren’t talking about our usual day-to-day bickering here-“  
“-which wouldn’t happen anyway if you just had the courage to have sex with her and be all sappy about the way you’ve loved her for _years_ , but go off.” Murphy interrupted with a wolfish grin.  
“This is none of your business, Murphy”, growled Bellamy, even as his cheeks flushed.  
“Oh shut up, tomato. Do you really think we’re all idiots? Why do you think everyone’s with Clarke on this? She’s heartbroken.” His voice turned suddenly serious and Bellamy could have sworn that for the first time in his life Murphy looked… protective, of someone other than his girlfriend.  
“I know I hurt her” was all he had it in him to say. Because, really, what difference would it make? Yes, she was hurt, but surely not heartbroken, Bellamy really couldn’t handle the implications of that kind of feeling. He’d known for a long time that Clarke didn’t feel the way he did which is why it had been best to keep her at arms’ length and resort to bickering. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t realise what Murphy was doing until it was too late and Murphy was making a bee-line for the front door of his apartment, with Bellamy’s phone in his hands.  
“Murphy! What the hell did you do!” he thundered, rushing towards him.  
But he just slammed the door snickering, “I told Clarke you want to have a chat – oh, and don’t tell me what I can or can’t do, you’re not my real dad”, he shouted from the corridor.

Bellamy collapsed on the ground against the door. No, this couldn’t be true. He knew he could run after Murphy and try to get his phone back, shoot a second text to Clarke, apologising, asking her not to come. But he also knew that would turn him into an even bigger asshole. Rationally, he also knew that Murphy had ripped a long-overdue band aid. He did have to talk to her. He had spent two weeks giving himself pep-talks, staying up all night to think of the what-ifs. He had speeches planned. The problem was, which one of the dozens he’d tried would be the most effective? He knew he had one shot to make it right and the stakes were far too high. Moreover, he couldn’t stop thinking about what Murphy had said. Was it really that obvious what he felt for her? And could it truly be that she felt the same way he did? He stood there for a long time, unable to move, elbows on his knees and hands in his hair, on the brink of an anxiety attack, until he felt a light knock on the door.

“Bellamy?” her voice sounded small, delicate “are you okay?”  
Of course, of course, after what he’d done she would be the one to worry about him. That just shot another pang to his chest. He scrambled to his feet, suddenly self-conscious about the way he looked, and the less-than-pristine state of his place, mentally berating himself for not taking the time to tidy up before she arrived.  
So he took a deep breath and opened the door. He was met with her eyes scanning through him with worry and he noted that she looked tired, underslept, although certainly not like a complete mess. He was sure he did, though.  
“Uh… come in”, he stammered. His anxiety was peaking, as were his murderous tendencies towards Murphy, but he stepped aside to let her through the door and silently led her toward the living room.  
“Are you alright?” She repeated calmly as she sat on the couch next to him. He didn’t miss how she sat far enough away from him, so that their bodies wouldn’t be touching, and nervously shifted in his seat. He was not alright, but he had no right to tell her that, he knew as much. Not anymore, not after what he did. Surely, he should start with an apology, see where the conversation went after that. At least she had come, something he wasn’t sure he expected her to do after how he had ignored her. However, he stole another glance at her and suddenly all the speeches he had prepared got stuck on his throat. He swallowed and shut his eyes, trying to erase from his memory the way she was looking at him. She looked so _small_ and fragile, and it broke him in two to realise he had been the one doing this to her. Clarke Griffin, fierce and confident and brave, was sporting such an unusually vulnerable expression that tore him apart. He realised that it was selfish to expect her to always be the strong one, and he knew he had to do something, anything, to make this better. As the realisation hit him in full force, he took a deep breath, urging himself to find the words to repair this, but she preceded him.   
“Listen, Bell…” she let out a shaky breath, “I’m sorry.” His head whipped to her, surely he misheard her? But she peeked at him through her moist lashes, a sad smile on her lips. She must have noticed his uncertain gaze, the way he licked his lips as if he was about to interrupt her, so she pressed, “Just… let me speak, please”. Her voice was low, tentative, and Bellamy found himself nodding. He hated himself, she really had nothing to apologise about, he knew the right thing to do would be to interrupt her and reassure her. And apologise, obviously. But the way her eyes twinkled mournfully at him only strengthened the lump on his throat. “I first overheard your sister talking about that PhD offer to Raven a couple months ago…” now it was her turn to shift in her seat, he noticed she looked uncharacteristically fidgety, “and I let it be, because I thought it was something new and that you’d tell me in your own time. I have to admit, I did feel a bit offended that you hadn’t told me you applied, I thought I was your best friend, after all. But I pushed it down. I thought perhaps you just needed time to sort through it on your own, first. But when… when I arrived at the pub the other week and heard everybody congratulating you and asking when you’d move out, I just… I just snapped”, she sighed. “I felt left out. I couldn’t understand why you’d hide something like this from me. All I could think of, is that you didn’t tell me because you were afraid I wouldn’t support you, that I would ask you to stay. It hurt, because that would have never happened. But now, I’m just terrified that my reaction confirmed your fears, and I want you to know that I’m sorry. It was selfish of me to think you should tell me first, I know I have no right to that… and I should have been more supportive, I should have told you how proud I am of you, rather than snap at you.”

He was sure he must look stupid, looking at her with furrowed brows, aghast at her words. Well, that was not how he had expected the conversation to go. She gave him another small, sad smile, it looked forced and didn’t quite reach her eyes. But she seemed to push through it, putting a hand to his thigh and giving it a soft squeeze. “Europe will be good for you”, she continued, “I’m sure you’ll get to sightsee a lot, maybe even visit Greece, or Italy, like you’ve always wanted. I know you’ll be happy there.” Her smile seemed a bit tighter, more controlled, and he couldn’t help but wonder whether she was trying to convince him or herself.  
She made to stand and he followed suit, knowing full well he couldn’t let her leave like this. He had to say _something_. “Clarke, I-“ he croaked, but she shook her head.  
“Bellamy, we’re good. I understand.” There was finality in her words and he knew his chance was slipping through his fingers the moment she turned towards the door.  
“No, Clarke, you don’t.” This made her stop. “I should have told you.” He mentally berated himself, realising that his voice, heavy with emotion, didn’t have the strength, or courage, to continue.  
She gave him yet another sad smile, he felt his heart shattering. “What’s done is done.”  
She left after that, leaving him dumbfounded, staring at the door closing after her, wondering how it was possible that even after two weeks of internal struggle he still hadn’t managed to find the courage to talk to her.

Murphy let himself in again around an hour later, looking like he had just bitten an especially sour lemon, and threw his phone back at him. At first Bellamy thought he was going to get shouted at. But when that didn’t happen, he admitted “I couldn’t do it. She was right in front of me, and despite how hard I tried, all the words got stuck in my throat.”  
Murphy didn’t sigh, didn’t make a sarcastic joke, didn’t raise his brows. He looked at him with an oddly serious expression, before growling “You should have tried harder.”  
Bellamy stood up. “She _apologised_ , Murphy! I didn’t know what to say to that! I spent all this time trying to figure out how to ask for forgiveness, because I am damn well aware that I was out of line. But then she came here, looking so vulnerable and fragile, and _she_ apologised, and- and… I was at a loss.”  
Then his friend scoffed, shook his head, and left the keys on the countertop. “Well, maybe try living a bit less inside your own head and a little more in the real world, Blake”, he spat, “You’re on your own now."  
As he walked through the door, Bellamy couldn’t help but feel an aching loneliness inside his very bones, wondering how he could have screwed everything up so monumentally.

He spent the following weeks packing his things, which gave him plenty enough time to replay the evening’s events in his head just about a million times. He had talked to his sister, who had a few choice words for him, but ultimately begged him with a resigned tone to _please_ talk to Clarke, grow some backbone, and work this out. Raven had been even more aggressive and refused to help him out. She ended the conversation with: “if you’re really going to leave without mending your friendship with Clarke, you’re not half the man I thought you were”, which was pretty ruthless even from her. Murphy just ignored him, until he snapped and told him to go cry about it to someone else, he could handle one person crying on his shoulder but not two. He knew it was a jab at him, meant to hurt him, but he couldn’t help but wonder if Clarke was actually so upset that she was relying on Murphy’s support. He couldn’t stomach the thought she was actually crying about him. So he soldiered on with the packing, feeling more alone than ever, and realising it was all his fault.

Two days before his flight, he texted her. He asked her if she was going to come to his farewell party the following evening. She declined, apologising, blaming it on her job, but he knew it was an excuse and his heart dropped. He knew it would come off as desperate, but he asked her if she would come to the airport to see him off. He was aware he had no right to ask her that, but hit the send button anyway before he could second-guess himself. She left him on read. So he did the first thing that crossed his mind. He took out pen and paper and wrote it all down. How he’d loved her for years but couldn’t bring himself to tell her, afraid to ruin their friendship. How he applied to this PhD to get away from it all, to start anew. How he couldn’t find the courage to tell her, because that made him feel like he was giving up on her, on his feelings for her, which was a necessary step but nonetheless a truly tough one. How he was afraid of hurting her, which only turned out to hurt her more in the end. How he should have known better. He poured his heart out, asked for forgiveness, and told her that wherever he was in the world, wherever he went, he knew deep down would never be far enough away to push her out of his heart. He told her he would be back, they could talk about it then, if she wanted. Then he took a walk, stopped in front of her house, and slipped the letter in her mailbox. As he was walking back home, he was surprised to realise that the constant heavy load on his shoulders that he had felt since that first fight was ever so slightly lighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Hope you enjoyed this small one-shot!  
> It was meant as a short drabble but kind of developed a life of its own and became much longer than expected. I hadn't meant for a continuation and the open ending is intentional, but let me know if you would like to read more in the comments and by bookmarking it. :)  
> Comments and kudos make me happier than Bellamy is when Murphy stops stealing his house keys!  
> Truly, feedback is extremely appreciated considering this is the first thing I ever put out in the world.  
> Hope y'all have a lovely day and stay safe out there :)
> 
> EDIT: tags have been changed, chapter numbers and title updated... you asked for more, more is to come!


	2. I haven't met the new me yet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Clarke learns to deal with her feelings and decides to move on.  
> But when she does, it all comes crashing down, twice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You've asked for it and here it is!  
> As I started writing, I realised that I wouldn't be able to give these two closure in one chapter.  
> Or rather, I could have, but it would have become excessively long.  
> So, you're getting another one after this! :)  
> There are some trigger warnings, I've put them in the end notes to avoid spoilers.  
> I'm warning in advance that this is *really* angsty, but remember guys: it has to get worse before it gets better!  
> Happy reading ;)

_In the disbelief I can't face reinvention,  
I haven't met the new me, yet.  
[...]  
Haunted by the look in my eyes  
that would have loved you for a lifetime.  
Leave it all behind  
and there is happiness.  
_Happiness - Taylor Swift

She kept the letter in h er memory box, right next to her dad’s watch and her mom’s wedding ring. On nights when she felt especially lonely, she would take it out, read it all over again. She hadn’t had the courage of going to his farewell party, or to see him off at the airport. What good would have come out of it? She knew he would leave anyway. Clarke kept repeating to herself that she’d done the right thing, but lately she was starting to doubt it. He had been gone for almost a year and she hadn’t heard a word from him. She texted him two days after he left, but had gotten no answer. She texted him the day after, and the day after, and the day after. He never answered. After a month of radio silence, she called Octavia. She needed to know if by not showing up she had unintentionally severed the last thread of friendship that connected them. Octavia’s answer was kind, “Oh, Clarke”, she’d said in an empathetic, if a bit pitiful, tone of voice, “he’s got a new English phone now, he’s not using his American sim-card anymore… didn’t he tell you?” No, he hadn’t told her. She had to admit it hurt, that again she felt left-out from this new stage of his life. She knew if she asked Octavia for his new number she would give it to her, but she decided against it. Perhaps he needed space – didn’t he write to her they could talk once he would be back, in that letter? It must be that.

However, she did miss her best friend. So she kept texting him. Every evening she would send him a text, talking about her day. Her friends had been understanding, in the first few months they tried to leave her alone as little as possible –Murphy especially. She had to admit it was quite a surprise just how caring he could be when he wanted to. But some days she couldn’t help that profound feeling of loneliness inside her very bones. The day of the anniversary of her father’s death was the hardest. Usually, it was Bellamy who accompanied her to the cemetery, he would stand next to her, an arm draped around her body, her head on his shoulder, while she would reminisce of their memories together, telling Bellamy stories from her childhood. Murphy asked her if she wanted him to come with her this year, and although she appreciated the gesture, she refused. She supposed it was time to do it alone. She steeled herself, convinced herself that she could, but the moment she looked at his headstone she felt her resolve shatter. She took out her phone, called Bellamy, just to hear his recording on the voicemail. The moment the automatic voice stated the number did not exist, she shattered.

She couldn’t move, even as it began to rain, even as she heard footsteps approaching. She didn’t even look up, as Murphy linked his arm with hers, pulled her under his umbrella, and began leading her toward the parking lot.  
“You’re soaking wet, you know that?” he asked her, his tone softer than she’d ever heard. But she felt oddly numb and couldn’t find the words to answer.  
“My car is over there”, she croaked out finally, as they approached his one.  
“Uh-uh, you’re nuts if you think I’m letting you drive in this state. We’ll come back to get it later.”  
She nodded, silently, feeling as though she was just riding through the motions. A ship with no captain, no sail, no oars. When he started the car, he spoke again, “want to go home?”  
“I- I don’t know.” She paused. “Not really.”  
He gave her a small nod and started driving silently, allowing her to get lost in her thoughts.

When they arrived at his apartment Emori was waiting at the door with a flannel blanket, which meant Murphy must have warned her she would be coming.  
“Clarke!” she exclaimed, enveloping her in a tight hug, “You’re freezing! Do you want to take a hot shower?”  
She could see the worry etched onto her face and instantly regretted letting Murphy lead her here. She knew she was being a burden, just like she knew these issues between her and Bellamy had caused a rift in their group of friends. “No, thank you Emori, I’m fine.”  
As she led Clarke to sit on the couch, draping the blanket over her shoulders and offering a hot cup of chamomile, Murphy sighed. “No, you’re _not_.” He said sitting beside her, “and it’s about time you admit it and start dealing with it, rather than hiding all this shit under the rug.”  
Emori set on her other side, taking her hands in hers. “Have you been taking care of yourself Clarke?” she asked, her eyes soulful, kind. “I haven’t seen you smile in months.”  
“I’m sorry” she answered, her voice small. “I- I’ve been busy studying for my last exams and haven’t been able to sleep much. I’m sure I’ll feel better once I finally manage to graduate.”  
Murphy and Emori shared a glance – Clarke knew she couldn’t fool them, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t at least try. She didn’t want to dwell on those emotions, she just wanted to keep feeling numb.  
Emori hugged her again, “you know you’re not alone, right? I’m always here for you, girl. You can talk to me.”  
“I know. And trust me, I appreciate it a lot.”  
They exchanged a small smile and Emori gave her hands another light squeeze. “Good. I have to go now, my shift at the pub starts in…” she looked at the clock “five minutes ago.” She smiled sheepishly, hurrying toward the door and quickly putting on her coat. “Be a good host, John!”  
He mock-saluted her, and with that she was out the door.

“So”, he started, slapping his hands on his thighs, “Thai delivery?”  
“You don’t have to, I already feel better, really” She did, a little, but in truth she mostly felt guilty.  
“Of course you do, but Thai will make you feel even better, so I’m gonna order it anyway” he said winking at her.  
She thanked him, continuing to sip her chamomile. She kicked off her shoes, pushing her legs up on the couch and fitting them under the blanket while Murphy booked their dinner from his phone. She’d always liked their apartment, it was far smaller than the house she rented in the suburbs, but it felt warm and cosy. There always seemed to be a vague smell of cinnamon, thanks to the scented candles that Emori kept around.  
She took a deep breath. “He deactivated his sim-card. The American one, I mean.”  
He glanced up at her with furrowed brows. She didn’t know why she said that, the words came out as if on their own will. She scolded herself on her lack of self-control.  
Murphy put the phone down. “You know what? I think neither of us is drunk enough for this conversation”, he said standing up and heading toward the cabinet. “Whiskey?”  
Clarke nodded and he poured two glasses. He sat back next to her, his body oriented toward her, giving her his full attention.  
“I thought Octavia told you he got a new one. I know he’s shit at social media, but you could seek him there too, if you wanted.” He said with a raised eyebrow.  
She sighed. “I don’t think I do. I just… I don’t understand why it has to be so difficult. I messaged him every day, you know? At first, I thought he was just ignoring me. When O told me he had a new sim-card, and I realised that I was once again out of the loop, it hurt. But I just kept writing to him to his old number. I just thought… I guess I thought maybe one day he would put the sim back in, just to check. Or that the day he would come back here and start using it again, he would get those messages. A sort of diary of my life without him, but waiting for him.” She felt her eyes growing moist, so she drank a bit of her whiskey to steel her nerves before continuing. “Now it feels like it was all pointless. It feels like by deactivating the number and _intentionally_ not telling me, he decided to cut all ties. I’m not sure I have the strength it takes to mend this, again.”  
Murphy gave her a pointed look. “Listen, you know I’m not shy of calling Bellamy out on his bullshit, but don’t you think that maybe that’s because you didn’t come to say goodbye? I know he invited you that evening, Clarke.”  
She looked at him, her eyes like pools of sadness, and his gaze softened. “He did.” She took a shaky breath. “He… he wrote me a letter. The night before. Did he tell you?” Murphy shook his head, pursing his lips. “He told me he _loves me_. He told me-“, she wanted to continue, but her voice finally cracked, a sob escaping her throat. Murphy poured her more whiskey.  
“It’s okay Clarke, I get the gist of it. You don’t have to continue” he reassured her with a soft voice.  
She gulped the glass he poured and wrapped the blanket more tightly around her body, steeling herself. “He- he wrote he didn’t have the courage to tell me he was leaving because he knew the distance would put a strain on our friendship and it was hard for him to admit aloud that he _wanted it to_. He applied for the position to put distance between us. But- but then he closed the letter saying that nowhere would be far enough away to ‘push me away from his heart’. Tell me how this makes sense, because to me it doesn’t!” She could feel how her emotions were overwhelming her and for a moment she missed the dull, numb sensation she had felt under the pouring rain earlier.  
“Does he know you love him, too?” asked Murphy after a sip of his glass.  
Clarke sighed, pinching her nose. “Murphy, I don’t-“  
“Yes, you do.” He gave her a pointed look. “I know that, you know that, Emori knows that, basically everyone knows that. Except Bellamy, it seems. Just like everyone knew he loves you, except you. Which brings me to a very simple point: why didn’t you go to his farewell party and tell him? I know you’re not the dramatically romantic kind that would run after him at the airport, so I won’t ask why you didn’t do _that_.”  
Clarke looked down, bit her lips in concentration, choosing her words. “He wrote in the letter that we could talk about it when he came back, I thought he needed some time, I-“  
He snorted, interrupting her, “now, that’s a crap excuse and you know that. What’s the _real_ reason why you chickened out?”  
She took another sip, shifting in her seat, and when she spoke her voice was even smaller. “Because what good would it have done? Say I went and poured my heart out to him… then what? He would have left anyway. Don’t get me wrong, I’m so _proud_ of him for doing this, for getting this opportunity and taking the plunge. He deserves it, he deserves happiness. I couldn’t tell him I love him the day before he left, knowing we wouldn’t see each other for years. He told me he wanted to get away from ‘this’, whatever ‘this’ is. It wasn’t up to me to stand in the way. If I came, if I told him I felt the same, it would have just made it harder for him to move on. It wouldn’t have been fair to him.”  
“What about what’s fair for you? You know, you keep talking and it’s all this sickeningly sweet bullshit about what _Bellamy_ deserves, what’s good for _Bellamy_ , what _Bellamy_ needs… what about you Clarke?” She looked up to him, confused at his words. “You should remember your worth. Besides, you don’t know what would have happened if you did. Long-distance relationships are a thing, you know?” he smirked at her.  
She huffed out a shaky laugh, “maybe. If you already had a steady relationship, perhaps? I don’t know. He said he wanted to start anew, Murphy. How could he do that with a relationship tying him to this place?”  
“This conversation is exhausting. _Bellamy, Bellamy, Bellamy_ … I told you Clarke, I know that you’re used to sacrificing yourself for other people, but you’ll do that enough by becoming a doctor, you don’t need to do the same for your relationships. Based on what he told you – which by the way is _not_ the same crap of pursuing a perfect job opportunity he told us – he wants to move on. I’m not going to pick sides, Clarke, but…” he cleared his throat, shifting in his seat “I’ve known Bellamy all my life, he’s my closest friend, which is how I know he can be a self-absorbed idiot, sometimes”, he smirked, “and this is one of those times. I know I’m not the best at giving advice, but I say: fuck it. You’re my friend too, and he’s made a choice, that of leaving and pursuing his career, which I will never understand, seriously, spending all that time _studying_? Hell, I wouldn’t do it even for money!” he grinned at her, and she gave another shaky laugh. Baby steps. “But, he chose that, so just… think about yourself, for _once_ , and move on. It’s surprisingly simple once you stop giving a fuck.”  
She finished her third glass and put it down, which he promptly refilled even as she tried to dissuade him. “I don’t know… maybe you’re right”, she sighed, “but it’s not that simple to stop ‘giving a fuck’, as you so eloquently call it. I just- I guess when I tried to call him today, which I know was silly, but… when I found out his number was deactivated I started fearing that maybe he won’t come back. I actually never thought about it before, I always took for granted he would come back here, for Octavia if nothing else, but… She’s an adult now and she can certainly fend for herself. I’m starting to think maybe he never planned to come back.” She gingerly took the glass back into her hands, swirling the dark liquid.in circles, looking down at it as if it held the answers to the mysteries of the universe. She took a sip and then a deep breath. “You know what?” She looked up at Murphy, her tone slightly more upbeat, if in a controlled manner, “Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s for the better, moving on.”  
“YES, Griffin, that’s the spirit!” he exclaimed, raising his glass, “cheers, I’ll drink to that!”  
A laugh escaped out of her lips and this time it rang truer, even to herself. “You drink to everything, Murphy!”  
“Cheers!” he repeated with a lopsided grin, clinking his glass with hers, “now, should we get onward with creating a tinder account?”  
She pulled her glass away from her mouth, almost choking on her drink as she held a laugh back. “Murphy!” She scolded him, giving him a playful swat on his arm, making his smirk grow wider. She would have added more, would have said that it wasn’t really her sort of thing, but the doorbell rang.  
Murphy stood up to answer it. “That’s our dinner, want to watch a horror movie or a bad 90s comedy?”

They ended up watching Mean Girls, which Murphy was horrified to discover Clarke had never seen before, while eating on the couch. Her clothes had dried long before, but that flannel blanket offered Clarke an odd sense of security, so she kept it wrapped tightly around her body, as her head rested on Murphy’s shoulder. He’d been a damn good friend to her these past months, much more than she expected him to, considering he was usually an irritating prick. Perhaps it was because she had always been able to see past that, or perhaps because despite all their superficial differences, they were similar at the core. Detached, controlled, with an odd sense of humour, at times feeling like actors playing a part for the benefit of the people they loved. Or perhaps it was because they both understood what it meant to feel utter loneliness, as two orphan only children. Yes, they respected and understood each other. So, when Murphy offered her to sleep over and take his bed with Emori for the night and she insisted on sleeping on the couch instead, he let her.

The following months were easier. She told herself she had to adapt, focus on her career, and ultimately move on. Thus, she poured herself into her work, went out with Raven, Octavia, Emori, and Harper on girls’ nights, flirted with a few people, slept around. Her friendship with Octavia had been quite strained after Bellamy left, but Clarke had tried her best to reconnect with her, and lately they had been closer than ever. She finished her studies, landed herself an apprenticeship at the local hospital to work in the ER department. She had thought long and hard about what branch she could take, and while neurology had seemed more intriguing at first, she found the fast-paced environment of the ER far more stimulating. The constant running around was exhausting, but it didn’t leave her space nor time to think of anything else but the task at hand. When she was alone, she was often tempted to reach out to Bellamy. On particularly bad evenings, she checked his social media accounts, scrolling through the occasional pictures he posted –mostly of landmarks of all the places he got to visit. She noticed he managed to see Rome and Athens. She was happy for him. Sometimes, a tall brunette with piercing eyes and long legs was in the pictures with him. She had checked her profile – though she would never admit it – her name was Echo, a foreign relationships student from the Netherlands. He seemed happy, and she was happy for him. Sometimes, she let herself admit that she missed him and was tempted to write to him. Although of course, she knew full well it would be a mistake. He moved on, just like he wanted to. So she texted him, even if she knew he would never receive these texts. It somehow made her feel like there was still an invisible string connecting them to each other, like she could vent and he would listen, like he used to. One evening, precisely two years after Bellamy left, she received an answer, and while for a second her heart raced, she knew it was impossible. She opened the message, it read: “Hi, I think you have the wrong number! Sorry, I don’t know anyone called Bellamy.” She stopped texting him after that.

The night after, she went out with the girls and two things happened: first, Clarke got uncharacteristically drunk, and second, she met a girl named Lexa.

After two months of sleeping together, they made things official. Clarke introduced her to her friends and she quickly became a regular in their game nights, gaining a fame for being unbeatable at Risk. Octavia loved her, Murphy tried his best to irritate her – Clarke knew he was just trying to test her most of the time, the protective little shit – and Raven constantly challenged her, swearing up and down that one day she’d beat her at Settlers of Catan. Clarke got offered a job at the ER department. A few months later, Lexa moved in with her in her suburbs house, but they talked of buying their own soon. Lexa started taking Murphy’s place in accompanying Clarke to visit her parents at the cemetery. She sometimes reminisced about her lost best friend, the man she had loved so fiercely, but she stopped stalking him on social media anyway. He moved on, she moved on. Life was good.

Looking back on it, it was great while it lasted. Hands down the best two years of her life. She wished Bellamy would have come back then, maybe introduced them to Echo. Octavia met her when she visited him in Oxford, said she seemed nice although a bit standoffish. Clarke wished Bellamy could have witnessed her happiness. Not to rub it in his face, only to be able to share it with him. But after that fateful night, after the car accident, nothing was ever the same. She would have never been the same.

Clarke had been in the passenger seat, Lexa was driving, while Octavia and Raven were sitting behind them. It was night, they were singing at the top of their lungs some stupid, cheesy early 2000s song that for some reason they all loved, although it was musically terrible. They had been on a camping trip up in Mount Weather and had the time of their lives. Not that it mattered, afterwards. In all honesty, in her brain that weekend was a blur, a flurry of images and noise that she couldn’t pick apart. She thought that maybe if they hadn’t been blasting that song so loudly they could have heard the honking, maybe if she wasn’t busy dancing it off, she could have seen the headlights of the other car some time before it slammed right into the left side of the car. But what-ifs didn’t matter much. She woke up in a hospital bed and her colleague, Jackson, had to be the one telling her the news. To this day, she couldn’t fathom how Lexa could have died and Raven could have broken her leg, while she only came out of it with a concussion and a scar on her forehead. It wasn’t _fair_. She went back home two days later and spent the day crying her eyes out, holding onto Lexa’s favourite trench coat.

The next day, Octavia visited her, to make sure she was fine. She was the only other one who came out of that car physically unscathed. At first, they only held each other in silence and cried for a long time. Then, Octavia helped Clarke prepare for the funeral, choosing a dress for her and softly brushing her hair. She braided it for her.  
“Now you look like a warrior,” she told her with a sad smile. “That’s what Lexa would have wanted. She would want you to be strong. She would want you to fight.”  
Octavia held her hand throughout the ceremony, while Murphy stood right behind, helping Raven with her crutches. She was surrounded by her friends, who kept giving her hugs and words of comfort, but she couldn’t feel lonelier. Once again, she felt numbness take control of her body.

A ship without a captain, a sail, or oars. She felt that way for months. She left the house in the suburbs, bought a small apartment downtown, close to her workplace. She often braided her hair the way Octavia taught her. She took up more shifts, stopped going for girls’ nights at the club. She still went to game nights, although the times she did became progressively fewer and further in-between. Murphy started accompanying her to the cemetery again. He and Octavia often came to her house unannounced, which, deep down, she appreciated. “You’re isolating yourself”, she often scolded her. “You know we’re here for you, right?” She knew. Despite everything, her friends were the only reasons she managed to stay afloat. She could never thank them enough for that.

Six months after the accident, things changed again. This time, it came with a phone call.  
“Hey babes, get some booze ready because tonight we’re celebrating!” Octavia squeaked over the phone. The excitement in her smile was contagious and Clarke found herself smiling.  
“O, what’s the occasion? Besides, it’s really late and you know I’ve got an early shift tomorrow-“  
“No buts! I know it’s like 11pm, but I’m already on my way to your apartment with nacho fries!” Bribing with trash food, a classic Blake move.  
When Clarke opened the door, Octavia jumped straight into her arms, laughing giddily.  
“O, what’s goin-“ Clarke tried to ask pulling her into the apartment, but she interrupted her with a squeal.  
“I’m getting married!! Lincoln popped the question!” Her smile was so bright and the twinkle in her eyes so evident, that after the first instants of mouth-agape shock, Clarke found herself wearing the widest grin she had in months.  
He had taken her to their favourite hike in the local National Park, told her that the accident made him realise there was nothing more he wanted in his life than being beside her, forever. The ring was beautiful, with a gorgeous emerald as its centrepiece. It fit her.  
They spent the night fantasising about the wedding, the where, the when, the dress. When Octavia asked her if she wanted to be her maid of honour, Clarke felt a warmth in her chest she hadn’t in a long time, pushing away the numbness. She hugged her, telling her that _of course_ she would love to. Clarke opened her Dom Pérignon bottle that she had kept for special occasions and they toasted.  
“May you always be so luminous and cheerful, O.”  
She grinned, “and may Lincoln never get enough of me!”  
After she left, Clarke sat on her couch, finishing her champagne glass. She was ecstatic for her dear friend, but couldn’t stop thinking about what was left unsaid that evening. She knew Octavia would have Bellamy give her away, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about seeing him again after six years of radio silence. That night, she took the letter out of her memory box, read it all over again for the first time in years, and let the tears fall freely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: death, car accidents, bereavement. 
> 
> Hope you.. well, enjoyed perhaps isn't the right word for it, but I hope you liked it and that you'll stick around until the end!  
> Kudos and comments make my day and really give me the drive to continue writing.  
> See you soon and send you lots of love your way babez <3


	3. Past the curses and cries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Octavia's wedding gets closer, Bellamy comes back home.  
> Clarke doesn't really know how to deal with that.  
> He doesn't really know how to deal with that either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!  
> So... as I kept writing I realised I couldn't give an appropriate, satisfying ending to this story in just one more chapter unless I made it, like 15k words. Which means, yes, there will be more! I know this is like the second time this happens, so I won't tell you whether there will be one more chapter or two. Guess you'll have to stick around and see (:  
> This chapter will be split between Clarke and Bellamy's POVs. Also, this it's a bit longer than the previous ones, I'm sorry but Bellamy just wouldn't stop rambling!
> 
> Enjoy! :)

_There'll be happiness after you,  
But there was happiness because of you,  
Both of these things can be true._ _  
There is happiness,  
Past the blood and bruise,  
Past the curses and cries,  
Beyond the terror in the nightfall.  
_Happiness - Taylor Swift

Clarke should have known no one would have had the guts to tell her he was back in town. Although, to be honest, she’d expected that at least Murphy would. She could excuse Octavia for forgetting, her wedding was less than a month away and she was running around like a headless chicken taking care of all the last-minute details. All their other friends probably didn’t tell her to avoid drama. But Murphy? He _thrived_ in drama. Now that she thought about it, perhaps that was exactly why he hadn’t told her. Not that it mattered. What _did_ matter, was that she was in the frozen foods aisle of the grocery shop with four different types of ice cream tubs and two frozen pizzas in her cart, and he had just walked through the door.

She froze, thoughts ringing in her head that _ha! You fit with your surroundings, frozen in the frozen food aisle_ , and _am I hallucinating?, a_ nd _he hasn’t changed one bit._

She gulped, quickly turning around and busying herself reading the label of a bag of frozen peas, hoping he wouldn’t notice her. The option of leaving her cart in the middle of the aisle and making a run for it was extremely appealing. But she told herself that she was an adult and _it’s been 6 years, get a grip on yourself_. She would have to deal with him pretty soon at O’s wedding anyway. Plus, what was in her cart wasn’t his damn business, there was nothing to be ashamed about. She sighed, put the peas bag down, and went towards the till. As she was putting her items in her bags she could feel his eyes, burning a hole through her. She scanned her card to pay, lifting her gaze just enough to see that yes, it was him, in the queue, just a couple of feet from her. She didn’t dare to meet his eyes, took her bags, and made her way to her car.

After she got home and put away her groceries, she crashed on the sofa, staring at the ceiling. She hadn’t had the impulse of reading his letter in months, since the night Octavia had come to announce her wedding, but now she was struggling with the temptation of taking it out again. Masochism at its finest, really. Instead, she took out her phone, dialing Murphy’s number.  
It rang twice before he picked up. “Ah, I guess you’ve heard the news.” She could hear the smirk in his voice and wished he were there, just so she could strangle him.  
“Ah, I see you go straight to the point without even saying hello”, she answered sarcastically.  
“What can I say, tact is not one of my qualities.”  
She scoffed. “You have qualities?” It was meant to be playful, but it came off quite aggressively. She had to admit she was a little mad at him.  
She heard him sigh. “I didn’t know how to tell you, Clarke, I was afraid of your reaction.”  
Her laughter sounded slightly hysterical even to her own ears. “I saw him at the grocery store.” His chuckle didn’t impress her. “There’s nothing to laugh at, Murphy! I was in the frozen aisle with pizzas and ice cream in my cart!”  
That made him laugh even harder and she unwillingly found herself joining him, a little less hysterically this time “There is a _lot_ to laugh about!”

Murphy told her that he had just arrived a few hours earlier, it was just her luck to see him on his first day back. He reassured her that he would have told her ‘at some point’, he was just stalling to avoid making her anxious about him before it was necessary. Apparently, he’d come earlier to help Octavia with the preparations. She tried not to think about it, about him, but as days passed one after the other, she felt herself growing restless, unable to sleep at night, spacing out at work. With miles separating them, she’d been able to convince herself that he had been a closed chapter of her life – tragically beautiful, but belonging to the past. She’d let go and moved on. Now that he was _there_ , in the same city, maybe as close as a five minutes’ drive away, she was second-guessing everything she’d told herself. Was it the closure that she needed, an epilogue to end their fragmented storyline? Or did she want to start writing again, a different story but with the same characters? All she knew is that she couldn’t tear the pages – she had never been able to. Even in the darkest moments, when she hadn’t felt longing or heartache, but only pure furious madness, she hadn’t been able to set fire to that damn letter. Perhaps she should have. It would have given her the sort of finality that she needed to move on, for real, and actually have the strength of will to interact with him in the weeks to come without feeling transported back in time. Yet, she continued keeping the letter safe in the box.

***

The journey back home had been exhausting. _Home_ , Bellamy thought, _what a strange way to call a place I haven’t been to in six years_. Octavia had moved in with Lincoln, so their old apartment was empty, waiting for him. She had come to pick him up at the airport and had chatted away throughout the entire car ride there. He’d been happy to see her, but being there again after so long was giving him an unsettling feeling, and he knew she was getting frustrated at him for not reciprocating her excitement. When she called him ‘broody’ he took it in stride and gave her a chuckle – she deserved him at least making an effort. He had rented a car for his stay, which Lincoln had thankfully picked up for him, dropping it off at his place.

After helping him bring in his suitcases, Octavia left him to settle in. The apartment was cold and dusty, though at least not as damp as the one he’d left in Oxford. He had grown used to the stillness of the night in the small town and now, back in a big city, hearing the hustle and bustle outside the window felt odd. Somehow, the noise of people’s lives going on outside made him feel lonelier than the silence used to do. It was all just so goddamn overwhelming. His sister had grown so much, she found independence and, most importantly, happiness. She was, by all means, a woman now, not the unruly girl he’d left behind. Being back in this place felt akin to a strange kind of time travel, where he was the only one living in the past and everyone else stayed in the present. As if the world had stopped moving for him alone, but kept rotating in its orbit for other people.

He had moved on, of course he did – miles away from here. He’d gotten writer's block and ran away, now he had to deal with that unfinished narrative, tying up the loose ends.

Octavia had left him some dinner in the fridge, some veggie meal she’d made with Lincoln, and as much as he appreciated it, he just needed some comfort food and booze. He could eat healthy the next day. It was with that excuse that he’d jumped in the car, driving on autopilot, not realising he was going to Clarke’s house until he reached it. Why did it have to feel so familiar? He parked on the other side of the road, uncaring about the fact that he looked like a stalker, she wouldn’t notice, she didn’t know his car. Plus, she probably moved on after so long, she had always been much stronger than him. That is, if she had anything to move on from to begin with. Just then, he saw a male figure walking around inside her house, right behind the window.

_Of course she’s moved on._

So he left, deciding to pick up some frozen pizza and fries, perhaps a six-pack of beer. When he dropped his items on the till, he saw her, just a few feet away, quickly putting in her bags what looked to be… two frozen pizzas. He wanted to smile at that, at how ridiculously in sync they still were, but he was too dumbstruck to do so. Besides, she was going to drive to the pretty little suburb house now and share it with her partner, while he was coming back to a cold, empty apartment. He saw her sneaking a glance at him, careful not to meet his eyes, and then making a dash through the door.

_Of course she’s moved on._

The following week went out rather uneventfully. He got a new phone number, his old one had already been claimed by someone else, apparently, and tried to organise a get-together with his old group of friends. He’d somewhat kept in contact with them throughout his stay abroad and thought he would receive a warmer welcome, yet no one tried to ask Octavia for his number, despite knowing he was back. Thus, when he contacted them first, making a group chat to organise a game night at his place, but was disappointed to see them all claiming to be ‘too busy’. He had toyed with the idea of inviting Clarke, too, but thought it better not to. He’d opened his heart to her once and she’d shattered it already. Yet, he couldn’t help but wonder if they all refused because of her.

In the end, only Murphy agreed to meet for a pint at the pub. Bellamy had been so happy to see him that he’d flung his arms around him as soon as he had crossed the door, but he could feel that his friend was stiff. They sat on the stools by the counter and ordered their drinks, exchanging small talk. Murphy had never been good at that sort of thing, but still, something was off.  
“What’s going on, Murphy? First, everyone’s too busy for a game night with their ‘friend’ who’s just come back after six years, then you agree to meet up with me but act like you’d rather be anywhere else. Have I done something wrong?” Murphy had been one of his oldest friends and he had to admit he was confused. He hadn’t expected their friendship to be as strong as the day he left, but he’d hoped the camaraderie would still be there.  
But he just scoffed. “What’s wrong? Bellamy, you moved on and so did we. We’re not the friends you left behind. Shit happened, to pretty much everyone, did you expect to waltz right back into the life you had here as if nothing had changed?”  
Bellamy’s mouth open and closed, his brows furrowed. “No, of course I didn’t. But we kept in touch, just like we said we would, I thought you were still my friends.”  
“Oh, really now? We kept in touch for the first year, Bellamy. Then, it was sporadic messages here and there, until it became a couple of times a year for birthday wishes. Did you even know Monty and Harper had a son?”

He felt his heart drop. No, he hadn’t known. Murphy had that ‘thought so’ look in his eyes and it was gut-wrenching, because he knew he was right. He’d excused it by convincing himself that he had been too busy with his research and teaching, but he was smart enough to know that such justification wouldn’t fly with Murphy. “Why are you here, then?”  
He looked away, “because if I didn’t come Emori would have had my balls.”  
That got Bellamy to chuckle. “How’s she doing?”  
Murphy raised an eyebrow, “who is the ‘she’ you’re referring to? Emori or she-who-should-not-be-mentioned?”  
He exhaled. He knew he’d just fallen into a trap. “Murphy… I don’t want to talk about Clarke. I obviously meant Emori and you know that.”  
“Oh, but we do need to talk about Clarke.” His tone was final, but Bellamy just wanted to enjoy the evening and his drink, without having to open up Pandora’s box.  
“Why?”  
“I told you, because otherwise Emori would have my balls.” He smirked.  
It was Bellamy’s turn to scoff now, “and here I thought it was because she wanted you to catch up with your oldest friend.”  
“Also that”, Murphy conceded with a sigh, before his tone turned malicious. “I’ll say this as gently as I can, Blake, precisely because I care about you. You may be my oldest friend, but Clarke is my closest friend. Hurt her again and I’ll kill you with my own bare hands. Understood?”

_Is he serious? This is bullshit._

Bellamy snickered nervously. “Hurt her? Me? If she’s your ‘closest friend’ then surely you must know I tried to reach out to her before leaving. I poured my heart to her and she couldn’t even be bothered coming to say goodbye. But I’m the one that hurt her, somehow?”  
A flash of anger crossed Murphy’s eyes as he spoke, but he shook his head and it was gone as quickly as it appeared. “Oh, I know all about that letter you sent her, don’t worry, I’ve read it.” That surprised Bellamy. “And that letter is _precisely_ why she didn’t come to say goodbye. You know what, Blake?” He said, tilting his head to the side, a mockingly amused expression on his face, “I thought you were smarter than that. You may have studied abroad, graduated with honours, got a PhD and a post-doc and all that crap – yet, that wasn’t enough to make you any less dense.” He took a sip of his whiskey, before adding “oh and daft, too.”  
Bellamy scowled. “I came here to meet with a friend, not to get insulted.” He wanted to be angry, perhaps once upon a time, he would have been. Now, however, he was just dumbfounded. “I’m going home.”  
Murphy raised his glass, “to rekindled friendships, Blake, and to… showing compassion and kindness to the people we used to know.” He gave him a smirk, and Bellamy knew he wasn’t just talking about the two of them anymore. “Cheers!”

That night he struggled to fall asleep, eyes trained on the ceiling, wondering what the hell Murphy had meant. He had never tried to lie to himself, he knew Clarke would have been hurt by his departure. He knew she _was_ hurt – had clearly seen the pain in her eyes that last time she had come in this very apartment. Besides, he’d been to her house, had seen the man walking in her living room, she’d clearly moved on. What the hell was it supposed to mean that she didn’t say goodbye because he gave her that letter? If anything, that letter was a pathetic plea for her to come to him, to beg him to stay. He would have stayed. He would have given everything up if she’d just asked. She’d made the call not to – how was any of it his fault? He had thought it through, on those fateful days leading to his departure. As he packed all of his belongings in just one suitcase, the idea struck him that, perhaps, she’d felt the same way for him. That was why he had made that desperate attempt, he thought he would have nothing to lose either way.

_Then why do I feel like I’ve lost everything that matters to me?_

Even Octavia had been different with him and he always blamed it on the miles between them. Yet, now that he was back, he could tell that while she was excited to see him, she was keeping him at arms’ length, almost cautious around him. He knew Clarke and she were inseparable, but she never mentioned her once, except the one time she’d told him she was going to be her maid of honour. She’d told him casually, while she was turned toward the kettle, intent on making some instant coffee, without looking at him. He hadn’t answered and she immediately changed the topic. A few times, while they were spending some time together, she went to talk on the phone in the balcony, secretively. He assumed she was talking to her. He felt shunned by everyone he cared about.

The rehearsal for the ceremony and dinner was held a week before the wedding. He was nervous, although not for the marriage – he used to dislike Lincoln, but now he could see he made Octavia happy. He’d taken good care of her, made sure she kept out of trouble. Her happiness was all that mattered to him. No, he was nervous to see everyone again, to see Clarke. Murphy’s words about them not being ‘the friends he left behind’ resonated within him. He and Octavia were the first to arrive at the venue on the morning of the rehearsal, which gave him the opportunity of greeting everyone as they came in. Only the wedding party was there, so he had the chance to get acquainted with Lincoln’s groomsmen, whom he’d never met. Most of all, he’d been glad to finally see Harper, Raven, and Nylah again. They all eyed him with varying degrees of wariness, but acted cordially. He couldn’t help but feel like, although he’d come back, there was still an ocean separating him from his friends. He congratulated Harper for her baby and found out his name was Jordan. Bellamy wanted to ask her why they never told him anything, but the words seemed stuck in his throat, and perhaps that was for the best.

Clarke was the last to arrive. She was wearing sunglasses as she entered, making it impossible for him to know whether she was looking at him, or if her face betrayed as much shock as his did. Murphy was right, there was something very different about her. It wasn’t just about her hair, cropped shorter than he’d ever seen on her, it was in the way she carried herself. She looked like the titan Atlas, carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. Raven and Harper were on her in an instant, talking in hushed whispers. Then Harper guided her to the bathroom, while Raven shot him a cold glare as she walked back to Octavia. Suddenly, he felt out of place. Sure, he was the one that left all those years ago, but all his friends had been very supportive of him, encouraging him to follow his dreams. He couldn’t explain to himself why they were all so cold now. He resumed chatting with Lincoln’s friends – at least they weren’t holding any grudges against him.

When Harper and Clarke came back, her sunglasses were gone. He knew he wasn’t supposed to stare, that he might make her uncomfortable, but somehow he couldn’t help himself. She looked exhausted. Her shoulders were slumped, her hands clasped together in front of her. Even after all these years, he could tell she was nervous. He couldn’t begrudge her for that, he felt the same way. When her eyes landed on him, he felt the wind being knocked out of his lungs. She just looked so _sad_. He nodded to her from across the room, feeling like he should greet her but not knowing how else to do that. She gave him back what he thought should be a small smile, though the movement of her lips was almost imperceptible. Once again, he found himself thinking about what Murphy had said – about rekindling friendships, kindness, and compassion – and wondered whether he should go to her, try to put an end to all that silent hostility. The moment he took a step toward her, she turned away, and Raven materialised at his side, leading him in the opposite direction as she chatted away about the flower arrangement.

The morning went by smoothly after that. His assigned seat during the ceremony was right next to Clarke – still, they didn’t exchange a single word. He saw her shift in her seat sometimes, fidgeting with her fingers on her lap, but she never looked up at him. As the rehearsals ended, she was the first to leave, disappearing quietly without saying goodbye.

Later, as Octavia drove him home, he could feel the tension in the car. It was normal – he thought – it was just the anxiety of the wedding catching up to her. Therefore, he was surprised when she finally spoke.  
“Be gentle to Clarke, big brother”, she said, her voice soft, “I know you’re upset with her.” She stole a glance at him, before setting her eyes on the road again. When he didn’t answer, she continued, “she’s my best friend and I want her to be by my side on my big day, just like I want you to. Just… just remember if you hurt her, you’ll hurt me too.”  
Bellamy sighed, “you’re the second person making threats to me regarding Clarke.”  
“I’m not making threats, Bell. I’m just explaining you how things stand.” A beat of silence, then he heard her chuckle. “Sorry, I’m just imagining the scene of Murphy threatening you, wish I could have been a fly on the wall!” She glanced at him again, “because it _was_ Murphy, right?”  
He gave her another annoyed sigh. “Yes.” His thoughts were whirring in the silent minutes that followed. Then, he found the courage to ask her what had been going through her head all this time. “Why are you all so protective of her? She just seemed tired today, but I’m sure she’s moved on, just like I have. There’s no need to hover around us, we’re both adults. We can handle ourselves, there’s no need to make a tragedy.” He was lying and he knew that. She didn’t look just tired, she looked broken, nothing like the Clarke he remembered. But he was fully on the defensive, feeling like not even his sister trusted him to be a decent human being – he had to admit that it hurt.  
Octavia didn’t answer right away, she was biting her lower lip, clearly nervous about how to phrase her words. “She’s as much over you as you’re over her, Bell. Besides…”, she sighed. She was clearly tiptoeing around the subject, and he had to admit he was starting to feel scared. Whatever this was, it gave him a bad feeling. “There’s something I didn’t tell you. I didn’t specifically want to hide it, I just didn’t want you to worry while you were so far away. Did you notice Raven was wearing a brace?”  
He furrowed his eyebrows, unsure how that detail mattered. “Yeah, she said she’d been in a really bad accident a couple of years ago.”  
Octavia glanced at him, grimacing, a guilty look in her eyes. “I was in the car with her, as were Clarke and her-“  
He didn’t even let his sister finish speaking, his face contorting with shock, “-you were what?!”  
She pulled up in front of his apartment complex. “I know, I should have told you Bell, but I’m fine. I came out without a scratch.”  
He wasn’t listening to her, though, still stuck on the fact that something like this had happened, and he wasn’t told. She could have _died_. Something inside him was nagging at him that _Clarke was there too, what about her?_ , but he tried to ignore it. He guessed Murphy had been right, these weren’t the same people he left behind. Not even his sister was. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”  
She bit her lip. “I knew how you would react, Bell. Just like you’re reacting now, you’re panicking. But I was lucky, I came out of it just fine. Not everyone was as lucky as I was.”  
He knew she was implying something, that he should probably press her about it. Instead, he persuaded himself that she must have been talking about Raven’s leg, and made his way out of the door. “You should have still told me, O.”

Later that evening, while he was lying in his empty, dark apartment, her words kept echoing in his head. Now that he was calmer, he couldn’t help but wonder what she had implied. Replaying the conversation on loop in his head, he wondered who the fourth person in that car was. She’d said “Clarke and her-“, but he interrupted before she continued. Boyfriend? Girlfriend? Co-worker? Friend? Plus, the car should have been destroyed by the accident, if it was so bad that Raven still wore a brace after two years, yet both she, Octavia, and Clarke still had the same cars they used to – he’d seen them that morning. Moreover, she had implied that someone got seriously injured. At the time he had tried to persuade himself that she meant Raven, but if that was the case she would have just said it. Was it Clarke? But she looked fine. Maybe that fourth person? He wanted to ask but couldn’t find the courage within himself to open up that conversation once more. He guessed he would find out at some point, it was probably not that important or Octavia would have insisted.

***

Clarke was curled up on her couch, a blanket wrapped around her and a mug of tea in her hands. That day had been awful. She arrived at the rehearsal an absolute wreck – under-slept and with dark circles under her eyes. She could only cover them so much with make-up, that’s why she resorted to sunglasses. Of course she’d been nervous, that adjective was actually quite the understatement. Yet, despite she was prepared, despite she’d spent the entire night steeling her nerves, she still wasn’t ready for the way her breath got caught inside her lungs when she saw him there, looking at her. She felt 21 again, inside his apartment, telling him “I’m sorry” and “it hurt” and “Europe will be good for you”, while he stared at her stock-still.

When Harper dragged her to the toilets, she broke down crying on her shoulders. She’d been so kind, she always was. She was the best out of them all and motherhood made her even more caring, somehow.  
“Clarke, breathe okay? You just concentrate on breathing. In and out, just like me. Let’s do it together.”  
Panic attacks had become common, after the accident. She’d been so insecure at first, her pride not wanting anyone to see her that weak. One day, however, Murphy had caught her in the middle of one and told everyone else. She’d hated him for that at first, but it ended up being one of the best thing he’d ever done for her. They had all been so supportive, helping her through them each and every time. She was always afraid one day they would have enough of her – but they never did. She’d felt less alone since then.  
“Good girl, just like that, in and out. I’m so proud of you Clarke, you’re so strong for doing this for Octavia. I can’t imagine how hard this must be for you. I’ll stand next to you, whenever you feel overwhelmed you just let me know, and I’ll help you get some space from other people, alright?” Harper gave her such a gentle smile that she couldn’t help but reciprocate as she nodded. “Good. Now, let’s fix this makeup, ditch those sunglasses, and go back there. You’re the strongest person I know, and you’re going to do great. Plus, I heard Murphy threatened to kill Bellamy ‘with his bare hands’ if he misbehaved with you.” That got Clarke laughing out loud through the tears.

Harper had been too optimistic, as usual. Things didn’t go that smoothly, especially considering she had been sitting next to him most of the time, but she managed, and that was enough. Being by his side as he ignored her – he had only nodded at her in greeting once – was heart-breaking. She had toyed with the idea of initiating a conversation, maybe making small talk, just to see what would happen, but she couldn’t find the courage. Ultimately, that was because she had no idea what she actually wanted: half of her heart wanted to shout at him for cutting her out of his life so brutally, the other wanted to be engulfed into one of his crushing hugs.

She didn’t let herself focus on these thoughts during the following days. Three days later, they left for O’s bachelorette party: a two-day getaway in a mountain resort. They hiked during the day, went to the hotel’s spa in the evening, and then partied in their room all night long. Clarke had planned it for so long, she’d stressed herself over the location, the activities, planning the hikes, creating playlists for their parties – but it was all so worth it, seeing her best friend so genuinely happy and relaxed. They had the time of their lives. On their second day there she wondered how sad it was that she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so care-free, the last time she’d let herself actually enjoy something. She wished Lexa could be there. Then, caressing Lexa’s necklace, which was hanging from her neck, she remembered herself that she _was_ there. She would always be with her. After that one incident, she didn’t have any more negative thoughts. She was healing – one small step at a time.

That was easy to tell herself, sitting in front of a remote mountain lake, enjoying the view, her closest friends chatting away a couple of feet from her. It was ironic, really. She’d been so lost when Bellamy left. Now, she could only feel at peace when she was away from him. Deep down, she knew this wasn’t totally the case – he wasn’t the problem. The issue was that when she was right next to him, she could feel the emotional distance between them, and that hurt her more than the physical one. She didn’t know how to deal with that.

She knew she couldn’t call it healing until she was able to hold a conversation with him without falling apart. She also knew this couldn’t happen at Octavia’s wedding. As she was walking back and forth in her living room, just two days before the marriage, she kept toying with the idea of talking to him. She could call him perhaps – at his new number. The idea terrified her, but all she knew is they had to talk and he wouldn’t be the one to take the initiative. They owed it to O, her day couldn’t be ruined by their petty fighting.

_This needs to happen._

She grabbed her keys and her jacket quickly, getting out of the door before she could change her mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a journey, eh?  
> Also, Bellamy is a dense ass (but I love him anyway).  
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it! It was quite nice to explore all the anxiety and pressure that they both feel, both in regards to themselves and in how they should behave for the sake of Octavia. 
> 
> Next up: YES THEY WILL FINALLY TALK! Get your popcorns ready ;) 
> 
> As always, kudos make my heart soar, and comments really, really make my day. <3  
> Send you all much love!


	4. When I'm above the trees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Bellamy have a chat.
> 
> They both reach an epiphany.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there!
> 
> I hope you're ready for this, popcorns in hand, because shit's gonna go _down_.
> 
> Enjoy! :)

__

_Honey, when I'm above the trees_  
 _I see this for what it is_  
 _But now I'm right down in it, all the years I've given_  
 _Is just shit we're dividin' up._  
 _[...]_  
 _Tell me, when did your winning smile_  
 _Begin to look like a smirk?_  
 _When did all our lessons start to look like weapons_  
 _Pointed at my deepest hurt?  
_ Happiness - Taylor Swift _  
_

She was terrified as she drove to his apartment block, her mind replaying on loop the last time she’d been there. Her heart was beating loudly in her chest, muffling other sounds, as she walked the stairs up to his door. She stared at it for a second before knocking. When he opened it, she released a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.

With his eyes wide open, he looked surprised to see her there. Which was fair – she was surprised to _be_ there.  
“Clarke?” After the shock was gone from his features, she could see the confusion replacing it. She tried to latch onto that, desperately wanting to ignore the fact that this was the first time she heard his voice say her name in the last six years.  
“Can I come in?” She tried to keep her voice steady, but it sounded feeble even to her own ears.

They sat on the sofa and, once again, she felt herself being transported back in time. Nothing had changed in his apartment – which was fair, Octavia had moved out right after he left and it had been vacant ever since. It should have made her feel at ease – she had so many happy memories here. After her parents died, she had spent most of her days in this place, doing homework with O, watching movies with her and Bellamy, not to mention all the evenings they’d spent here for game nights with their friends. And yet, she felt out of place. They were sitting in uncomfortable silence, looking anywhere but at each other.

He was the first to break it.  
“Why did you come here?” His tone wasn’t accusatory, but she could feel the mistrust in it.  
She cleared her throat. “We need to talk.” She forced herself to look at his eyes, but wished she hadn’t. She’d never seen him look at her so coldly, and try as she might she couldn’t understand why he was doing it now.  
“About?” He asked her, raising one eyebrow.  
“I don’t know. All of this, I guess. Octavia is my best friend, I’m her maid of honour, and you’re her brother, as well as the person who will give her away at the altar. We owe it to her, to be civil with one another and not cause tension on what’s supposed to be her and Lincoln’s day.” She paused, looking at him pointedly, willing herself to be as strong as Harper thought she was. “They deserve it, Bellamy.” She saw him flinch as she said his name, and wondered if perhaps this was just as hard for him as it was for her. She used to be the best one at masking her feelings out of the two of them, but evidently, a lot had changed in six years. Maybe he was also pretending to be more detached than he really was.

He shifted in his seat before breathing out a defeated sigh. “I suppose you’re right. Why now, though? It’s midnight.”  
She gave him a small smile, hoping to lighten the mood. At the very least, he’d agreed that this was for the best – wherever it is that it went. “I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t even realise it was so late, actually. I can leave, if you want.”  
He saw a flicker of desperation in his eyes, but it disappeared so quickly she could have imagined it. “I- No. No, there’s no need to. I couldn’t sleep either, we might as well talk now.”  
She steeled herself. “Why did you deactivate your number?”  
“I told you I wanted to get away from all of… this. Life here. Besides, it wouldn’t have been of much use in the UK.” His tone was controlled, matter-of-fact. Talking to him like this was tearing her apart, and she wondered if coming here had been the best course of action, after all.  
“I get that, but… It still doesn’t make sense to me. You gave your new number to everyone, _everyone_ , except me.” Hiding the way she felt was becoming a struggle, and she felt her emotion spilling into her voice. “I texted you _every single day_ , for over a month, pouring my heart out to you. Until I asked Octavia why you weren’t answering and she had to be the one telling me that you had a new number.” She felt tears prickling her eyes and she took a deep breath. “I called you, you know – on my dad’s death anniversary. It was the first time I had to go to the cemetery alone.” Despite the effort, she couldn’t manage to keep her voice from shaking. “I just wanted to hear your voice, that’s all I wanted. I knew you wouldn’t answer, of course, but I thought I could hear your voicemail greeting recording. Turns out I couldn’t. You weren’t just not using your phone, you cut out all ties you had with _me_. You even removed me from social media, which is insane because you barely use them anyway. So now don’t give me this crap about wanting to ‘get away from life here’ because I’m not 21 and gullible anymore, Bellamy! You kept in contact with everyone else but cut me out! You wanted to get away from _me_!”

She was heaving by the time she finished speaking, painfully aware of being at the brink of a panic attack. She closed her eyes, picturing Harper and her meditation lessons, trying to calm her breathing. When she opened them again, he looked mortified. They looked at each other in silence for a while. She was conscious of how desperate and broken she had sounded, and while she should probably be embarrassed (and she surely would be the next morning), in that moment she only felt relief at finally voicing how she felt to him. He kept looking at her like a lost puppy, and she thought she could see years of regret and pain in his eyes. _Perhaps we can work through this, after all_ , she thought. So she continued: “Don’t give me that look, Bellamy. Don’t look at me like I’m a broken vase and it’s your job to fix me. It isn’t, not anymore, not after how much you hurt me. But I think you do owe me honesty.”  
As she said those words, the moment was broken, his eyes growing inexplicably cold once again. “I don’t owe you anything, Clarke. You’re the one that broke my heart in two – _you_ chose this, when you chose not to even bother coming to say goodbye to your so-called ‘best friend’. Did I make it awkward because I told you I loved you?”  
She felt a stray tear rolling on her cheek, but she couldn’t bring herself to lift her hand up to brush it away. She was watching him, mouth agape, incredulous at his words. She didn’t know what hurt the most – the harsh tone of his voice of the fact he had spit in her face that he _loved_ her in clear past tense. She could feel her breathing becoming increasingly erratic, the beginning of a panic attack rolling onto her like a wave. She remembered thinking he hadn’t changed when she first saw him in the grocery store, but now she realised that he did, in a way that ran far deeper than his looks, his longer hair, and his beard. She realised she had no idea who the man sitting next to her was.

_So much for working through this._

She forcefully pushed herself up from the couch, taking her jacket from where she’d left it on a chair, all semblance of self-control and calmness abandoned. “Fuck this. Fuck _you_ , Bellamy! YOU LEFT! I had no choice in that! You sent me a letter where you said you loved me, that you’d loved me for _years_ , two days – _two days_ – before leaving! What the fuck was I supposed to do? Beg you to stay? Who the hell do you think I am?” She stood there before him, hyperventilating and shaking with fury. She dried her tears frantically before continuing, “What did you hope, tell me? Because, really, you should have known me enough to know that I lov– that I _cared_ about you too much to tell you to stay. I knew how long you had dreamed of visiting Europe, how great of an opportunity it was for you to study in one of the best universities in the world. So tell me, _Blake_ , what was I supposed to do with myself once you dropped the bomb on me that you loved me? Come and say goodbye? Tell you ‘oh Bellamy, I love you too, I’ve also loved you for years, now goodbye and good luck, see you in six years’?!”

She was shouting, but at that point she didn’t care. She knew she would regret this, all of this, tomorrow. She’d come here to make the situation better, and now she was shredding everything with her own hands, but she couldn’t find the strength to stop. Once she’d started, the words were flowing out of her mouth effortlessly. He didn’t even try to interrupt her once, he just kept looking at her with a miserable expression – regretful, almost. She took a deep breath, although it sounded more like a sob. Her tears were falling freely now, and her voice was softer, broken when she spoke again. “How dare you tell me that I broke your heart, Bellamy? You chose to leave, you wrote to me we could talk it out once you were back. Now that you are, you’re not willing to do that, choosing to blame me instead. How is any of this fair?” Her hand flew to Lexa’s necklace, hanging from her neck, trying to steady herself. “I loved you too, Bell. I really did. That’s why I let you go. I did what I thought was best for you, and it broke me apart. I missed you so fucking much – you were my lifeline. I kept texting you, even knowing you wouldn’t respond, just because I wanted to fool myself you were out there somewhere. But then someone else inherited your number, and I lost that fake sense of closeness, too. I reread that letter a hundred thousand times. I longed for you all this time. Now that you’re here I don’t even recognise you.” She chuckled at that. “Though I suppose you don’t recognise me either.” She shook her head, muttering to herself, “I don’t know why I came here.” She put her jacket on, heading toward the door.

Bellamy was on her in an instant. “Clarke, wait!” Something inside him had shifted, the tone of his voice wasn’t cruel anymore – if anything it was on the verge of sounding desperate, his hand gripping her arm firmly. As her head whipped back to him, she saw the glisten in his eyes.  
She felt her heart clenching in her chest, but she was so exhausted, this fight had drained her. “What is it you want now?”  
He licked his lips, thoughtful and uncertain. “I pushed too far. I’m sorry. You’re right, I don’t know you anymore. The Clarke I knew wouldn’t have blown up like that.”  
“And the Bellamy I knew wouldn’t have given her any reason to”, she retorted.  
He flinched, hesitating before answering her. “Did you really love me, Clarke?” His voice was soft and undecipherable – a mixture of disbelief and brokenness.  
The intensity of his gaze made her blush and she suddenly noticed that he was _so close_ to her, their bodies barely inches from each other. She couldn’t bring herself to look him in the eyes as she answered him, blinking back tears. “Yes.”

She was about to continue, about to say that she was idiot, because she will _always_ love him, no matter how ridiculously horrible he’d been to her. It didn’t erase everything they had been to each other, it never could. All the good times together, all the times he’d been there for her, all the laughter, and inside jokes, and falling asleep in each other’s arms late at night while watching TV series – it all came back to her, clear as day. It took being close to him, hearing him call her name like _that_ , and emotionally breaking down to finally reach the epiphany that she’d never stopped loving him, and never could, no matter how much she’d tried to convince herself that she had moved on.

So she tore herself from his grasp and left, before some other stupid thing blurted out of her mouth. As she sat in her car, sobs wrecking her body, she wondered if finally being able to admit this to herself could be considered part of the healing process.

***

Bellamy stood dumbfounded, staring at the closed door, for a long time.

_What have I done?_

He knew he fucked up – again. He hadn’t expected her to come to his place unannounced, out of the blue. But she’d been there, she’d taken the plunge for them both. He knew that out of the two of them she had always been the strongest, bravest one. She was trembling and dishevelled, evidently terrified, but she did it. Yet, instead of being grateful to her for taking the first step, he’d been bitter. He knew she was right, they owed it to Octavia, if not to each other. But then he fucked it all up again.

He thought that she had moved on, but it seems he was wrong – Octavia had told him that she’d moved on ‘as much as he did’, but he hadn’t paid attention, too caught up in his own feelings. He knew it had been harsh to cut her out, but at that time it felt like the only option. He saw her not coming to his farewell party as a final goodbye in and of itself – he thought it meant she didn’t feel the same way he did and felt awkward seeing him again, interacting with him after his confession. It had broken his heart, that’s why he thought that cutting her out was the best option for them both. When she never reached out, he convinced himself that she just didn’t care. But she _had_ reached out – he just hadn’t known. Now, he would give everything to read those texts she’d sent, but it was too late.

_“Don’t give me that look, Bellamy. Don’t look at me like I’m a broken vase and it’s your job to fix me. It isn’t, not anymore, not after how much you hurt me. But I think you do owe me honesty.”_

He sat on the couch, hands in his hair, her words replaying in his head. They had ripped his heart out – because she was right, that was exactly how he was looking at her, and he had no right to, no matter how much he might have wanted to. It was someone else’s job now. That’s why he lashed out in pain and jealousy, because he knew she would never be his, not anymore. When he actually gave her a chance to talk, to tell her version of the story, he felt disgusted at himself. Because _of course_ she’d had a perfectly good reason not to come to say goodbye. He’d been so blinded by pain and rejection that he had never allowed himself to see her side of things, to stop and think, to realise that Clarke wasn’t like him – she didn’t follow her heart, she thought with her head. She had set him free, and he’d set everything on fire, burning their friendship to the ground and leaving her to clean up the ashes.

Starting a new life without her, without his sister, and all of his friends had been tough. Then he met Echo. They didn’t see eye to eye at first, but he learned to respect her in time. She was fierce, independent, and adventurous – and she had a thing for him. They dated for a while and he thought he was happy. Three years in, he started feeling like he belonged for the first time. He missed home, missed his people – missed Clarke – but he was content, and that was enough. He started working as a teaching assistant, publishing book reviews, and articles for relevant journals. He was proud of himself and the work he was doing, and that was enough. Then, it all came crashing down when Echo left, five years after he moved there. He came home one day, in the small one-bedroom flat where they lived together, to find all of her stuff had vanished into thin air. She’d left a letter on the table, explaining why she left: short and to the point, as always.

 _“Bellamy,  
I went back to Amsterdam. It is for the best.  
I am tired of being your second choice – I deserve better, and so do you.  
You should go back to Clarke. I don’t know who she is (or was) to you, but I heard you call for her in your sleep, asking for her forgiveness, too many times to continue to ignore it. I know you care about me, but I’m not naïve enough to think one day you’ll love me the way you love her.  
I looked her up on social media, she seems like a good girl.  
Please, understand that I’m not holding anything against you. I hope you can finally find your happiness with her.  
Stop trying to convince yourself that this life is enough for you, I’ve gotten to know you enough to see you’re not happy here, no matter how much you try to convince yourself otherwise.  
Thank you for the last four years.  
Please do not contact me again.  
Goodbye, Echo._”

It was poetic, really, that she’d break up with him with a letter – especially considering she didn’t know about the one he’d written to Clarke. At least Echo had more dignity than him in what she wrote. At first, he tried looking for her, but he realised she had blocked him everywhere. He had no way to talk to her, to apologise, to tell her he loved her. Then he stopped – what was the point? She was right. He was content with her, but he wasn’t happy. During long, sleepless nights, he kept wondering whether this desolation, this confusion was the same Clarke felt when he left. He wondered if she felt as alone as he did – though at least she had her friends, he was utterly alone. That’s when he started resenting her, wishing he’d never met her. Then, perhaps, things with Echo would have worked out.

Being so far from Clarke, feeling so isolated and anguished, he lost touch with reality, letting his emotions run rampant and take control. It took one night of being close to her, of seeing her so heartbroken, crying freely in front of him, for all the old memories and feelings to rush back inside of him. He remembered what he had written to her in that letter: no distance would ever be enough to truly push her out of his heart. While that was true, it had been enough to lose sight of how important she was, to persuade himself he didn’t care about her anymore. Now he knew that to be false. Now, he knew Echo had been right all along, and could admit to himself that after she left he’d felt lonely because he was _alone_ – not because he missed her, specifically. There was only one person he ever truly longed for.

Try as he might he couldn’t shake from his head Clarke’s ashen face after he told her he loved her in past tense, couldn’t shake the image of her holding the necklace on her neck like a lifeline, nor the scars he saw on her forehead and on the side of her nose. He had to hold himself from tracing their faint lines with his fingertips. He recalled Murphy’s words – now he understood what he meant. This was not the Clarke he left behind, this was just a shell of her. He cursed himself for not following his advice, for not being compassionate and kind, and for ignoring Octavia’s admonishment of being gentle to her. He could see what they meant now.

She _loved_ him. Her words of that night, over six years earlier, came back to mind: _“Europe will be good to you”_.

No matter how good his intentions had been, his letter put her in an uncomfortable, painful position. Yet, she did the greatest act of love: she let him go unburdened – and in turn, he cut her out, breaking her heart. He threw out all their years of friendship and their one shot at love because of a misunderstanding, and tonight he made it all worse with his rash reactions. He didn’t deserve her, nor did he deserve forgiveness after how poorly he’d just treated her, but in that moment he promised himself he would do everything in his power to earn it, even if he would never be able to forgive himself. It was time to leave the resentment in the past and learn to be a better man.

His phone rang a few minutes later, alarming him. It was almost 2 AM and he had no idea who could call him at this time. When he saw Murphy’s name, he took a breath of relief – his first thought was that something had happened to Octavia.  
“Hey Murphy, why are calli—“  
“Shut up. What did you do?” He had never heard him so aggressive, despite the fact he was whispering.  
“What? What are you talking about?” he heard footsteps, then a door being opened. He was thoroughly confused. “Murphy, what is going on? Where are you?”  
“I just went on the balcony, I don’t want to wake up Clarke.” Bellamy felt his heart drop. When Murphy understood he wouldn’t ask him anything, he pressed. “Yes, Clarke came here. Remember how she came to your apartment when something was wrong? Yeah, she had to find some other place to crash at, since you _abandoned her_.” He felt those words like a slap to the face. Clarke had to be very close to him if she went to his place for comfort, rather than to her boyfriend. He wanted to ask him about it, but Murphy continued talking before he could do so. “She arrived an hour ago a complete wreck, I’ve no idea how it’s possible that she didn’t get into another accident. Like, holy shit Blake, how irresponsible do you have to be to let her drive like that?” Bellamy was frozen in his spot, recalling the faint scars on her face. “What the fuck did you do to her?”

He stammered, unsure what to respond. Sure, she’d blown up at him, she was evidently a mess when she left, and he knew he had screwed up, but he hadn’t realised the intensity of it until that moment. He settled on simplicity and honesty. “I… I made a mistake, Murphy.”  
He scoffed. “Damn right you did! As if I hadn’t warned you!” He sighed. “Listen… I don’t really give a shit about the details. Those are between you and Clarke. But I can tell you something, it must have taken her all the strength she had to come to your place to try and figure out things – because knowing her, that’s why she came, isn’t it? To smooth things out before Octavia’s wedding.”  
Bellamy gulped. “Since when did you become so introspective?”  
“Since you moved out and I was left to help Clarke pick up the pieces. I won’t hurt you for Octavia’s sake as well as Clarke’s, but you better get over yourself and figure out a way to mend this, or get the fuck away from this place after your sister’s wedding. Clarke has suffered enough and she was making _progress_ , for God’s sake. Her panic attacks were starting to decrease – until you came along” He breathed in sharply: of course, that’s what it was – the shaking, the erratic breathing, the wild look in her eyes. She was having a panic attack and he hadn’t noticed. He wondered when they started, realising once more that he knew nothing about her anymore. “So get your shit together, Blake. Clarke deserves better than this.”  
“I know.”  
Murphy gave him a disappointed sigh. “Is this really all you have to say?” Bellamy could picture him shaking his head at him.  
“Yes! It is! Because I know I was horrible to her! I’ve spent all the time after she left cursing at myself, okay? I hate myself for saying the things I did. I’m an asshole, and I know it. And you’re right, she deserves better.”  
“Then fucking _be_ better.” He said before dropping the call.

Bellamy sighed, dropping on his bed. “I will”, he said aloud to himself.

***

Clarke went hiking the next day. Murphy and Emori had insisted that she stayed, but she was adamant. She needed to be alone with her thoughts and process everything that happened, before having to face him again in less than 24 hours, at Octavia’s wedding. Thankfully, everything was ready for the celebrations, so she could have a free day for herself.

She went hiking in the woods, seeking tranquillity, peace. She focused on her surrounding, enjoying the lush greenery. Summer was about the end, the days were still hot, but under the foliage, the temperature was delightfully cool. When she arrived up above the trees, she sat on a boulder, taking in the view, letting the fresh breeze caress her skin. The mountain lake was shimmering in the afternoon light, reflecting the clouds ahead, trees dotting their shores. She tried to meditate, counting her even breaths, concentrating first on their sight, then on the feeling of the rough rock beneath her fingertips, on the sound of a bird of prey screeching above her, and lastly on the smell of the woods, pine, and wildflowers. Nature was the only place left where she could feel at peace. It was also the only place where she could think clearly, without getting caught up in anxiety.

She had tried to put away from her mind what happened throughout the whole hike, now it was time to see things for what they were. The Bellamy she’d seen the night before was not the one who left six years earlier. Which was fine, she was a different person too. However, she couldn’t reconcile the person she saw with the sweet, caring, protective Bell she remembered. Where had his kindness, his empathy gone? He’d been so _cruel_. Yet, she couldn’t shake some of the looks he had given her, for example right before she left, as he kept holding her arm. His eyes haunted her, there was a loneliness, a desperation there that she knew too well.

_Why does he have to look at me like he still cares? It’s not fair. Not after all he’s said._

She tried to remind herself that he _did_ apologise, admitting he’d gone too far. She just wished she knew why he did. Perhaps he also wished he knew why she’d been so volatile. The truth is that they’d done it all wrong – none of them were ready to actually mend things between them, and maybe they would never be. She focused her eyes on the panorama, from her vantage point above the trees, the horizon seemed so distant, she could see everything.

Perhaps that was the problem – they were both hiding too much. They didn’t know how to be honest with themselves and each other about the way they felt and about everything that happened. How could they really work towards fixing their relationship, when they didn’t know each other anymore? When they couldn’t see the person in front of them for who they were, but only for who they used to be? Clarke knew he would never be able to truly understand who she’d become until she told him everything, but that meant talking about Lexa, and she didn’t know if she could.

She took a deep breath as she stood up, glancing at the view one last time before heading back down the mountain. For now, she just had to be a good maid of honour to Octavia. She deserved the best, especially after how much support she’d given her in the past years. She would be there for her tomorrow, then, once the wedding had passed, she would think about dealing with Bellamy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp! I guess we're making some progress at least?  
> (lol please don't hate me!)  
> Bellamy is finally getting there. (: Will Clarke forgive him eventually? Will YOU? (: 
> 
> The next update may take a while since I will be rather busy in the next couple of days. Ideally, I will post before mid next week! But, if you want me to work on this much, _much_ , faster, you can donate for an update through the The 100 fics for BLM (you can find our carrd [here](https://t100fic-for-blm.carrd.co/)). You can also donate if you want to prompt me something! So please hit me up with new Bellarke fics ideas ;) There is also an audience survey going on, it's completely anonymous, and your feedback would be truly appreciated. You can find it [here](https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSfXcFI3r7_wdL0H9iyx6SLnM3Ey9bF8LaiTxYSSqXpg9bqxDw/viewform). <3 
> 
> You can also find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/juliet23writes) and [tumblr](https://juliet23writes.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Thank you so much for reading this chapter! As always, comments and kudos truly make my day! They are my biggest sources of motivation. :) 
> 
> Next up: Octavia and Lincoln's wedding! Will everything be okay or do you guys sense some drama coming up? ;) 
> 
> Much love to all of you, see you in the comments section! <3


	5. Leave it all behind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everybody! 
> 
> So sorry for the wait on this one. Had a bit of catching up to do with life!
> 
> But _finally_ the day of Octavia and Lincoln's wedding arrived - which means our idiots have to act functional in public. 
> 
> Will they manage? 
> 
> See you down in the end notes!

_There is a glorious sunrise  
dappled with the flickers of light  
from the dress I wore at midnight.  
Leave it all behind,  
and there is happiness.  
I can't make it go away by making you a villain.  
_Happiness - Taylor Swift

On the morning of the wedding, Octavia and her bridesmaids got ready all together in her suite at the venue.

She had chosen a 19th-century castle in the middle of the countryside, far out of the city. It was rather picturesque, Clarke had to admit, especially the English garden where the ceremony was being held. Octavia had been giddy the entire morning, excitedly pacing around the room. Her happiness was contagious, and the atmosphere was light as they all had their makeup and hair being done. O looked astounding, her chiffon and lace wedding dress was elegant and sophisticated, making her look taller and graceful – which coupled with her intricately pulled up hair made her seem like a Greek goddess. Clarke supposed Bellamy would be proud, he had brought her up reading her Greek mythology, after all, and now she seemed the personification of Artemis. Her bouquet seamlessly completed the look – full of greenery, lilies, sweet peas, and wildflowers, she certainly didn’t go the traditional way. She was beaming and Clarke felt pride swell in her chest.

Whilst she wasn’t a huge fan of the princess bridesmaid dresses she had chosen for them – tulle and pink weren’t really her thing – she had to admit they looked gorgeous in them. Harper was the only one that actually liked it, although that wasn’t very surprising. Instead, Niylah looked like she had no idea what to do with all that tulle, and Raven was just annoyed at how difficult it was to walk in, the back of the gown constantly getting stuck in her heels. At first, Clarke had been surprised that Octavia would choose such dresses, but then she saw Raven smiling as she subtly checked herself out in the mirror and Niylah taking a full-body selfie when she thought no one was there, and she understood what Octavia had known all along: yes, they were being grumpy, but it was only a façade, they secretly loved them. O had given them the opportunity of feeling like princesses in an actual castle – she had wanted the day to be special to all of them.

She was helping Octavia put on her veil when Bellamy came in, locking eyes with her. Her fingers froze on the bride’s head, unable to react. He was truly handsome, with his hair slicked back and his fancy suit, staring at her in awe. She broke from his gaze, clearing her throat, and finished adjusting the veil. As Octavia turned around to him, he beamed at her. She could tell he was getting teary-eyed and found herself smiling at him.  
“O… you look stunning.”  
She linked her arm with his, grinning widely. “Is it time yet? The waiting is killing me!”  
As they walked out the door, arm in arm, Clarke and the bridesmaids just behind, he turned around and smiled at her warmly. She smiled back – for Octavia.

The ceremony had been a fairy-tale. She thought she would have been nervous, sitting next to Bellamy the entire time – had referred to it as a ‘recipe for disaster’, even – but in reality, she’d just been too happy for her best friend to notice. She had seen him discreetly dry tears from his eyes as the newlyweds had made their vows, and she had given him a smile, but that was the extent of their interactions.

After the ceremony was done, the photographer took shots of the bride and groom with their friends and relatives. Octavia called her over.  
"Hey, I know we’ve already had pictures taken together with the other bridesmaids too, but…” she looked up at her, holding her hands tightly. “I don’t have my mom or my dad to take pictures with me today. It’s hard not to think about it, because it kinda sucks. But I’ve got you, and Bellamy. You’re both my family. Is it okay if we take a picture, the four of us only?”  
Clarke pulled her into a warm hug “of course, we’re family.”  
So that’s how she found herself standing right next to Bellamy, his arm around her waist, her hand on his shoulder. She tried desperately to focus on the camera, when all she could think about was the tingling, electric sensation his touch left on her skin.

After the pictures had been taken, she made her way to the reception area, in order to ensure everything was running smoothly. The guests were still mingling in the garden, champagne glasses in their hands, but soon they would make their ways to the tables. She felt him behind her, but ignored him.

He caught up to her anyway.

“Clarke… wait up, Clarke!”  
She sighed before turning around, plastering a smile on her face. “How can I help you?”  
His eyes flashed with hurt. “I just wanted to tell you—about the other night, I—“  
“I don’t think now’s the time to talk about it”, she interrupted.  
He nodded. “I know. I just wanted to apologise.”  
“You already did. I heard you the first time, now I’m sorry but I really have to go.” She knew it wasn’t fair to talk to him with such a clipped tone of voice, but she really wanted to be done with the conversation.  
He saw his jawline set, eyes suddenly opaque. “Sorry, wouldn’t want to make your _boyfriend_ wait.”

She probably should have been hurt by his spiteful tone, but she was too confused to register it. _Boyfriend?_ “What are you talking about? I’m not dating anyone.”  
Bellamy scoffed. “Oh, really? I saw him. What’s the point in lying, Clarke?”  
She kept looking at him with knitted eyebrows, unsure of what to say. “Bellamy, I really don’t have a boyfriend. I have no idea what it is you saw, nor how that’s relevant, but I can assure you I’m not dating anyone. Where did you even see this supposed ‘boyfriend’?”  
He bit his lips, evidently unwilling to answer. But she kept looking at him in silence, and eventually he spit it out. “I drove past your house. The day I came back. I saw a man walking around your living room, and you had two pizzas in your cart.”

She didn’t know how to react to that, knowing the first thing he did upon coming back was coming outside her house. _Wait… is he jealous?_ She gave him a small smile. “I don’t live there anymore, Bellamy.”  
He looked at her, stunned. “What? You loved that place. It was your dream house.”  
Clarke tried her best to keep herself from grimacing, toying with Lexa’s necklace. She didn’t wear it often, only in special occasions, or when she needed to feel her close to her heart, needed her strength. “Yeah, it used to be. Now it just brings bad memories.” She squared her shoulders, trying not to get lost in her feelings. “So yeah, whoever you saw in that house wasn’t my boyfriend, because I don’t have one.” She cocked her head. “Although I’m not sure why it should matter.”  
He looked down, abashed.  
She took the chance to leave and go check out the reception area. At least she wasn’t sitting next to Bellamy for the dinner.

***

Of one thing Bellamy was sure: Octavia was the most beautiful bride he’d ever seen. She was radiating bliss – and so was Lincoln. They made each other happy, and that was all that mattered. Giving her away to him had been the proudest moment of his life. He also might have shed a tear or two, which Clarke had embarrassingly noticed.

_God, Clarke._

She was all he could think about: he’d been star-struck since the moment he’d laid eyes on her in O’s suite. When he got to hold her by the waist for the pictures, he thought his heart would break. Touching her felt so familiar, shivers running on his back where her fingers had grazed his suit. But damn, she’d been so stiff that being in such proximity just left him longing for more, wanting to make everything better. Yet, it seemed that all he could do when he was with her was to make a fool out of himself. It made sense, really, that if she’d had a boyfriend he would have found out from someone by now, and she would seek refuge in his arms, not Murphy’s. Plus, it was stupid, being jealous of someone he had pushed away himself.

But he couldn’t help it.

So when Finn spent the entire evening roaming around her like a bee with honey, he was seething. Murphy, who was sitting in front of him, noticed, and gave him a kick from under the table, mouthing: “jealous much?”  
“You know,” Monty whispered on his ear, interrupting his silent stare-off with Murphy, “if you’re going for subtlety, you’re not doing a great job.” He gave him a small nudge on the elbow. Finn was still chatting away at Clarke’s side by the bar, but her eyes were on Bellamy. When he looked back at her, her gaze shifted to the floor.

He let out a sigh. “I just don’t know what to do. I’m afraid I’ve fucked this up beyond repair.”  
“I don’t think so. Clarke believes in second chances and you know that.”  
“Well, too bad I think _this_ was the second chance, and I blew that already.” _But I can’t stop looking at her._  
Monty gave him a small smile. “I think you guys need to talk. Really talk.” He paused, evidently debating how to word his thoughts. “A lot of things happened when you were gone, you know?”  
Bellamy turned his head towards him, an exasperated look in his eyes. “Yeah, everyone keeps telling me that, yet no one actually wants to tell me _what_ happened.”  
“Because it’s up to Clarke, if that’s something she’s ready to talk about or not”, Monty told him with a sad sigh.  
His eyes grew concerned, “does this have to do with the accident? The one she was in with O and Raven?”  
Monty’s lips tightened. “Just talk to her, Bellamy.” They looked at each other in silence for a moment. Then, Monty must have recognised the indecisive, apprehensive look in Bellamy’s eyes, because he continued. “She loves you. And she needs you. We’ve all tried to be there for her, but no one could ever truly replace you – not even Murphy, however much he may have wanted to.” He chuckled. “You’re a good person Bellamy. You’ve always been good to her, but you must acknowledge the shit’s that has happened. Be a better person today than you were yesterday. If you really must act on your feelings, or your ‘heart’, as Clarke always said… then act on your love, not your pain.”

They shared a smile. As he raised his eyes, he noticed Clarke making her way toward the garden while Finn was distracted talking to Lincoln. He gave Monty’s arm a squeeze and followed her.

She was leaning on the colonnade railing, looking toward the sunset. He stopped a few feet behind her, suddenly frozen in place by second thoughts. Perhaps this wasn’t the right moment after all – he couldn’t see her face but she seemed peaceful, and he shouldn’t disturb her.

Just as he was about to walk back in the hall, she broke the silence, without even turning toward him. He hadn’t thought she noticed him.  
“You know, I should be the one asking you where your girlfriend is.” She turned to him slightly then, an unreadable expression on her face. “I thought you would bring Echo to meet your friends, finally. I mean, it’s been years after all.”  
He sighed as he approached her. “Clarke…” She turned to him fully then, one hand resting on the railing, perhaps for stability. He mirrored her stance, he needed grounding, too. “Echo broke up with me around a year ago.”  
She scoffed. “So this is what all this is about.” He gave her a confused look. “You feel alone and are looking for a rebound.”  
“No, Clarke—“  
“Well, I’m not interested.”

She turned to leave, but Bellamy caught her wrist. He was pulled in by the intensity in her eyes, unable to look away. Once more, he felt the sadness in her eyes like a punch to his gut. “I swear to you Clarke, that’s not it, at all.” She must have been convinced by the certainty of his tone, because he felt her arm soften under his fingertips, her eyes searching his. “What happened to you, Clarke?”

His tone was soft, caring, but as she pulled her arm away from him and went back to leaning against the railing, he regretted asking. He thought he saw tears in her eyes in the faint light, but she blinked them away before he could remark on them. “I don’t want to talk about it.”  
He went to stand beside her, eyes always on her, even as she looked away. “Alright. I’ll start. I’ve never felt so lonely and isolated as I have in the past six years. Leaving, especially like that, was the most horrible mistake I could have made.” He sighed. “I regretted it every single day. But being mad at you for not saying goodbye was easier than owning up to the shit I did. Thinking you didn’t care, that maybe you never did, was easier than admitting I was a coward for running away, that I pushed you away myself. You not reaching out before I left… I hooked onto it to convince myself I was right and nothing I wrote to you in that letter mattered to you. But deep down, I knew I wasn’t. I was just too proud to admit I fucked everything up and lost control of the situation.” He paused, his gaze shifting towards the sunset. Her eyes looked like they could see into his soul. “Echo and I were together for four years. She kept me company, inspired me, and pushed me to be stronger when I felt like everything I did was a mistake. She broke up with me because she knew I would never be able to love her like she wanted me to.”

He looked at her then, her head leaning ever so slightly to the side, eyes admonishing, but soft. He must have had a communicative expression too, because she sighed, then said: “Don’t look at me like that, Bellamy.”  
“Like what?”  
Her eyes searched his for a moment. “Like you still love me. Like I’m the reason Echo broke up with you.”  
He sucked his breath in, suddenly unable to speak. But he did anyway. “I do love you, Clarke.” His voice was low, barely above a whisper, but it was steady. All the times he had imagined telling her in the past six years, he always thought he would either scream it at her, or tell her in a broken voice, holding back tears.

Instead, he’d whispered it, while she was a couple of feet away, stiff, almost detached. She was silent, and it felt cold, too cold. Just as he was about to do something desperate and lean in to kiss her, she spoke.

“No, you don’t.” She lifted her face to him, and he saw the tears pooling in her eyes. He wanted to counter, but she spoke again before he could. “Lexa loved me.” She took a shaky breath. “I know you care about me, Bellamy. I’m sure you did miss me, like you missed everyone else. But you can’t call your inability to move on ‘love’.”  
He saw the way she was clenching her hand shut and took it in his. She looked at him, silently begging him not to, but he gave her a small smile, slowly unclenching her fingers, one by one. “I missed _you_ , Clarke. Above anyone else. I told you, nowhere is far enough.” She didn’t take her hand away from his – that was already some progress.

They stayed in silence for a minute, his fingertips slowly tracing invisible lines on her palm. Then, his eyes flickered to her necklace, the one she was gently caressing, before landing on hers, teeming with sadness and understanding. “Lexa… She was your girlfriend?”  
Clarke looked down, nodding silently.  
“She was in the accident, wasn’t she?” Clarke’s head snapped at him, her ocean eyes wide and quickly filling with tears. He didn’t wait for her to nod and pulled her into an embrace, holding her tight as she sobbed quietly on his chest.

In that moment, Bellamy knew with absolute certainty he would never let her go.

***

As Bellamy’s strong arms enveloped her core, all Clarke could think was that _God_ , she missed this. So she allowed herself, just for once, to unpack all the feelings she’d wrapped tightly close to her heart. She allowed herself to mourn, for Lexa, who should have been there tonight, for the best friend she lost six years prior, for all the hugs she had needed but couldn’t get, for the unanswered texts and calls, for all the loneliness she’d felt despite being surrounded by friends.

It wasn’t the question that broke her. Of course, talking about Lexa was still hard, it would probably always be. But no, that wasn’t it – it was him. The soft tone of voice, the way he hadn’t needed any explanation but could still read her well enough to put the pieces together without context. The way he’d looked at her necklace, as if he understood. The fact that he didn’t treat her as if she was made of glass, like Harper or Octavia did, but his arms were there to hold her if she fell apart.

What broke her was hope. Because _this_ Bellamy, right here, was so much like the one in her memories. This Bellamy could still read her like the back of his hand. Perhaps they hadn’t changed so much after all – not at their core.

“Shhh… It’s alright, Princess. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

His muffled voice brought her back to reality. She was crying in a portico at her best friend’s wedding. Her make-up was surely ruined and everyone was probably wondering where they were. Daydreaming was surely nice and exceptionally easy while being in his arms, but it would do her no good. After all, he _was_ going to go somewhere. Back to England, to be precise.

_What the hell am I even hoping for?_

She untangled from his arms, drying her cheeks with her fingers, trying not to completely mess up her make-up. She looked at him through her lashes – seeing his small smile was painful, because she could recognise the same hope she’d felt a minute before.  
She cleared her throat. “Thank you. For… the hug. But bringing up old nicknames doesn’t change the fact that you’re leaving soon. Again.”  
If she would have had the courage to hold his gaze, she would have seen the pain flashing in his eyes at her words. “Clarke… I– Then I’ll stay. For you.”  
She huffed out a half-laugh, but tried to look at him gently. “No, Bell. That’s not fair and you know that. You may have struggled at first but you have a life there, a career to pursue. I didn’t ask you to stay all those years ago, I certainly won’t do that now.”  
“You’re not asking me, it’s my decision.” He took her hands in his, his eyes pleading. “And Clarke, no. I may have a job to return to, but _you_ are here, all the people I care about are here.”  
She had to admit, he was making it so hard to leave. To gather up her willpower and untangle her hands from his, to walk away and back to the hall.

When she didn’t answer, he spoke again. “I followed you here because I need you to know that I’m sorry. I was horrible to you the other night. You deserve so much better than that, and the least I can do now is let you know I regret everything. Nothing justifies the cruelty of my words, so I can only say that I am _so sorry_.” He sighed, still looking at her with such intensity that made her insides twitch, butterflies doing somersaults in her stomach. “I also came here to tell you that you look breath-taking in this dress. So I guess I can at least be excused for bringing up that old nickname.” He smirked at her, trying to lighten up the mood.  
It worked, despite her best efforts the corners of her mouth lifted, if only ever so slightly.  
“Flatterer.” She deadpanned, making his smirk grow wider.

Loud cheers erupted from the room behind them, and she took that excuse to remove her hands from his and stepping back, gaining some distance.  
Bellamy turned his gaze to the hall. “Looks like they’re opening the champagne bottles. We should go back in.”  
She barely heard him as she sprinted toward the garden the moment she saw him being distracted.

He must have seen her run away – high heels didn’t really allow her to run that fast – but she was thankful he didn’t follow. She needed to be alone.

Having Finn buzz around her the entire evening had been exhausting enough, and this conversation with Bellamy certainly hadn’t made things easier. She sat on a bench overlooking the lush garden ahead – it was so peaceful. Nothing like her mind, her brain running a mile a minute, still going through all the words he’d said.

_“I do love you, Clarke”_

_“I missed you … nowhere is far enough”_

She sighed, forcing herself to get her feelings under control. At least they’d talked, that was a start. Besides, all of this was what she wanted, wasn’t it? He had been open and genuine, he’d taken ownership of his mistakes, he’d admitted to her the way he felt. Yet, somehow, she couldn’t find it in herself to accept his outstretched hand, his olive branch, and move on. She needed time – the only thing she didn’t have. Because he _would_ leave again, despite what he said. She was sure that he would. What would his words matter then, from a thousand miles away?

When Murphy came to find her, the sun had long since set and the garden was dimly lit with fairy lights. He didn’t say ask her any question, just took her arm in his and led her back inside in silence. She was thankful for that.

Octavia and Lincoln were cutting the cake, cheesy music playing in the background. Harper and Raven were by Clarke’s side in an instant, joking about the horrible taste of whoever made that playlist. Realising he was being called out, Murphy gave them an offended scowled, muttering something under his breath, making them all burst into laughter. 

The rest of the evening fell into place after that. She kept seeing Bellamy stealing glances at her when he thought she wasn’t looking, but she was sure Raven’s intimidating stare was enough to deter him from actually approaching her again. Not that she would mind. Not too much, at least.

The lights were dimmed for the newlyweds’ first dance, the candles on the table and in the alcoves of the walls giving the room a soft, fairy-tale atmosphere. She didn’t really feel like dancing, outright said so to Finn multiple times, but when later in the night Lincoln offered her his hand, she couldn’t really deny him.

“Today has been perfect, thank you for helping with all the organisation. We couldn’t have done it without you and the girls.” He told her with a smile as they danced.  
Clarke gave him a soft admonishing look. “Don’t even mention it. I am just so happy for you guys. You deserved it, and you deserve all the happiness in the world. Congratulations again!”  
“Thank you. I just hope you know you deserve it, too. Be kinder to yourself, don’t push away your chance at happiness just because you’re hurt.” He looked behind her, and as she followed his gaze she saw Bellamy, leaning against the wall, looking at her longingly.

She sighed, but Lincoln continued before she could speak. “I know he was a jackass, but he genuinely seems sorry about it. What you guys have is special, throwing it all away again because you’re scared of getting hurt would be such a shame.”  
She sighed. “This isn’t just some petty fight. We’ve said very harsh words to each other. He left, Lincoln, and he will leave again.”  
“Will he?” He stole another glance at Bellamy and she fought the urge not to do the same. “Because that is not the look of a man that wants to leave. That is the look of a man that wants to dance with you at _your_ wedding.” She looked down, unable to stand his complacent smile. “Plus, you’ve already forgiven him. We both know that, only he doesn’t.”

Clarke didn’t know what to say to that – because ultimately Lincoln was right.

When the song was over he led her back to the bar. She busied herself with a glass of champagne, trying hard not to let her eyes wander around the room in search of Bellamy. In the end, her efforts were futile as she saw him appear next to her out of nowhere, right hand outstretched to her, a fond smile on his lips.

“Dance with me, princess?”

She put her glass down, thought back to Lincoln’s words, and took his hand.

They twirled around the room in silence, the fingers of her right hand interlaced with his, while the others rested softly on his shoulder. She willed herself not to feel tense, to enjoy this moment. Whatever may come next didn’t matter, she could focus on that in the future. While she was dancing in his arms, she allowed herself to leave it all behind – all the hurt and blame and scars and loneliness. She allowed herself to take a shaky sigh of relief, rest her head softly on his shoulder as he led the dance, and just feel happiness swell inside her chest.

She could always deal with the consequences tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that went better than expected, didn't it? 
> 
> This was such a fun chapter to write, I could just picture Bellamy's concerned/fond expressions in my head the entire time. 
> 
> We're approaching the end, I will do my best to update by next Tuesday, but I can't make any promises. If you really, _really_ can't wait, you can donate for an update through the The 100 fics for BLM (you can find our carrd [here](https://t100fic-for-blm.carrd.co/)). You can also donate if you want to prompt me something! So please hit me up with new Bellarke fics ideas ;) There is also an audience survey going on, it's completely anonymous, and your feedback would be truly appreciated. You can find it [here](https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSfXcFI3r7_wdL0H9iyx6SLnM3Ey9bF8LaiTxYSSqXpg9bqxDw/viewform). <3 
> 
> Also, come and find me on my [twitter](https://twitter.com/juliet23writes) and [tumblr](https://juliet23writes.tumblr.com/) accounts, I love having new people to chat with!
> 
> Last but not least, thank you so much for taking the time to read this new chapter! And just fiy, I literally squeal every time I get notifications of new comments and kudos (do with this knowledge what you wish!).
> 
> Sending out love to you all <3


	6. When a good man hurts you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!  
> I'm back! 
> 
> I am so, so sorry for taking a literal month (what?!) to update this!  
> Life has been really crazy, but I will try my best to be more consistent in the future.
> 
> Oh, by the way, I lied, this is not the last chapter (: 
> 
> Ooops. 
> 
> Enjoy!

_No one teaches you what to do  
when a good man hurts you,  
and you know you hurt him too.  
_Happiness - Taylor Swift

Clarke found herself thinking about that last dance with Bellamy three times in the next week.

The first, was that very same evening, as she laid in her bed. Although she was exhausted, sleep hadn’t come easily – she tossed and turned and cursed herself for doing something so silly. Sure, it was nice to dance with him, to feel his arms around her, but she was a little disappointed in herself that it took him only a few pretty words and a fond smile to make her lower her defenses.

The second, was on Wednesday. It was a tough day at the ER – she had to take care of a family involved in a car accident, could not save the mother and the youngest daughter – as she took a very much needed break after hours of incessant work. She sat on the hospital’s rooftop, a warm cup of tea from the cafeteria in her hands, watching the sunset. Clarke let her mind wander again to the words he’d said to her, in front of a different sunset, a few days before – _I do love you, I missed you, nowhere is far enough_ – and about those he didn’t say, as they twirled around the room in each other’s arms.

She wanted to process _why_ she had felt such a surge of happiness as they danced, why it felt like coming home when she knew _she_ never left her home. Why it was easy to forgive him when it shouldn’t be, when she could and should be mad. She really did. Instead, she bottled up her feelings, work keeping her too occupied, and she managed to convince herself that perhaps it was for the best.

Therefore, the third time she thought about it was on Saturday afternoon.

Clarke sat on her sofa, nursing a cup of coffee, phone in her hand, and wondered where Bellamy was now. A week had passed since the wedding, and maybe he had already left, maybe he was already back in Oxford or London or God knows where, returning here God knows when. She wondered whether she should call him.

_Or maybe text? Yeah, maybe, it’s more detached. More casual._

As they spun around in their fancy clothes, in candlelight, she could trick herself into thinking that things were fine, but that didn’t mean it was true. What Clarke knew was true is that this time she would try to do better, be a better friend. A long time had passed but she remembered clearly how easy it was to be at Bellamy’s side – so easy that it had made her wish for more than just a friendship. Regardless, what they had was special and that stupid dance reminded her of it. Perhaps it was worth it to swallow her pride and be the first to send a text, now that she had the right number, to work through their issues, and who knows, perhaps even go back to that one day.

Before she could start typing her phone rang. She sighed – _of course it’s Murphy_.

“What do you want?” She hadn’t meant to answer in a clipped tone, but really, it wasn’t her fault he had such bad timing.  
“Wow, jeez, hello to you too, sunshine!”  
Clarke sighed. “Sorry Murphy, I was in the middle of—“  
“—daydreaming about Bellamy, I know” he interrupted, making Clarke’s eyes roll in annoyance. “Well, since I’m a good friend, I’m calling to let you know that Monty thought it was a _great_ idea to invite him for game night tonight and only telling me now, so I’m giving you a little heads up.”

Clarke gulped, pacing around the room. _Well, shit._

“…because you remembered that it was game night at my place tonight, Clarke, _right_?” She could tell from Murphy’s tentative voice that he already knew the answer.  
She sighed again. “I’m sorry Murphy, it’s been a hell of a week at work, I barely remembered to eat.”  
“Yeah, like other weeks are different” he deadpanned, making her smile. “Alright, as long as you haul your ass here in a couple of hours and bring beer, your sins will be forgiven. Again.”  
Clarke chuckled. “You’re not going to ask me if I want to sit this one out? Since Bellamy is there?”  
“I mean, you seemed pretty comfortable last Saturday, all snuggled up to him, so nah. You know I’m your friend, Clarke, but I’m not missing out on all this drama.” A moment of silence passed, in which she could practically see in her mind the way he was smirking, then he added: “oh, and wear something sexy like—“

She hung up on him before he could continue.

She had to admit, the idea of wearing something sexy had ignited some sort of giddiness inside her; although she wasn’t sure why. Was is because she wanted to get his attention, or was it out of spite, to remind him of what he missed out on? That didn’t mean she would follow Murphy’s suggestion, though.

In the end, she was about to wear an old henley, but stopped herself. She used to wear them all the time, but hadn’t done so in years, so much so that they all had ended up in the very back of her wardrobe. She knew why she felt the pull to wear it – she was feeling nostalgic. For the first time in years the whole gang was going to be reunited – minus Octavia and Lincoln, who were on their honeymoon. She put the henley down and wore a turtleneck sweater with high wasted blue jeans instead. No point in being stuck in the past.

Clarke had to admit to herself – she was feeling a bit nervous. As she arrived at Murphy and Emori’s, she noticed she wasn’t the only one to be a little on edge. It seemed like everyone was on their tiptoes, expectantly waiting for the night to end in disaster. Raven sat next to her, often eyeing her suspiciously, as if afraid she was wearing a façade that was soon to crumble. Murphy and Emori silently communicated through worried glances, as she brought everyone cans of beers and set appetisers on the table, while he made sarcastic comments at everything coming out of Raven’s mouth.

Harper and Monty sat next to Bellamy, on the opposite side of the living room. Clarke could see from her stance that Harper was uncomfortable about the whole ordeal. Meanwhile, Monty was making light conversation with Bellamy and she tried to convince herself that it wasn’t that interesting, that she shouldn’t be trying to listen in on what they were saying.

She noticed he was wearing a henley shirt. Not that it mattered that much.

When Jasper arrived, bearing moonshine and some brownies that may or may not have contained illegal ingredients, the mood visibly shifted. He made himself at home, turning on the stereo, singing “I don’t like Mondays” as if he were in a karaoke bar.

Clarke and Raven exchanged a knowing look, and she couldn’t help but burst into laughter at her friend’s raised eyebrow. As she looked around the room, relief washed over her seeing everyone’s higher spirits thanks to Jasper’s antics – Harper and Emori had even joined in on the singing and were dancing by the coffee table.

This felt nice. Normal. She could almost pretend Bellamy wasn’t there – or that he never left.

Her eyes found him subconsciously and she couldn’t help but stare. He was smiling widely as he watched the girls, a beer can in his hand and little crinkles at the side of his eyes. When his gaze shifted and found hers she wanted to look away, pretend she wasn’t staring, but it was too late. His laughter dampened slightly, but the smile he gave her was soft, kind. Before she could think much about it, she found herself smiling back, somehow successfully taming the rosy flush she felt rising from her neck.

_Thank God I wore the turtleneck in the end._

At some point in the midst of the confusion and laughter someone got out the box for Risk, making Raven and Monty groan in unison, their voices overlapping each other’s in a mix of “do we _have_ to play this?” and “don’t even take it out, we all know who’s gonna win anyway!”.

Murphy caught the twinkle in Clarke’s eyes and they shared a smirk. “Well, we have a special guest tonight, so our princess may actually lose for once.”  
Clarke giggled and Raven gave her a look, a very clear that’s-enough-alcohol-for-you look. Emori subtly moved the moonshine bottle under the coffee table, as Bellamy embarrassedly pointed out he hadn’t played the game in years.  
Jasper plopped down on the couch next to him, sprawling an arm around his shoulders. “Rusty or not, I doubt anyone can beat the Commander of Death!”

Turns out he was right. Well, somewhat.

Four hours and two beer six-packs later, Clarke and Bellamy were at a stalemate. Monty and Harper left a couple of hour prior, after being both eliminated – Harper probably on purpose, impatient as she was to go check on Jordan. Their new babysitter, a teenager called Madi, watched him for the evening, but Clarke knew Harper wasn’t very keen on staying away from her baby for long.

Raven and Emori had both fallen asleep – Raven’s head laying on Clarke’s lap and making it rather difficult to play in the first place. Emori was curled up on the armchair, and Murphy had spent the last half an hour watching her fondly as he aimlessly toyed with a fidget spinner. Currently, he was on the balcony with Jasper, probably smoking a joint.

Clarke sighed, harshly brushing her fingertips against her eyes. She was tired, unsurprisingly, as it was almost 3am. Bellamy watched her curiously.

“Alright”, she said. “I surrender.” She caressed Raven’s hair, trying to wake her up gently.  
Bellamy furrowed his brows. “Why? You can still win.”  
She cocked an eyebrow at him. “And maybe I would if I weren’t so exhausted.”  
As the balcony door opened and shut and the boys returned, she caught Murphy smirking at Jasper, hand outstretched to him.

“Clarke.” Jasper’s voice was stern, if barely a whisper, not to wake up Emori. “Please tell me you didn’t lose.”  
“I didn’t. I gave up.”  
He cursed under his breath as Murphy’s self-satisfied grin grew wider. “Ha! Told ya, now pay up!”  
“Did you guys _bet_ on which of us would win?” Bellamy’s low voice was laced with amusement even as he feigned outrage.  
“Obviously, and now Jasper owes me fifty bucks.”  
“Fifty?!” Bellamy shout-whispered, “Jesus Christ guys.”

As Clarke helped a sleepy Raven to sit up, she looked back at Jasper. “Sorry, if it makes it better I had a long-term strategy and might have won in about 15-ish rounds, I was just too exhausted to go on.”  
He pouted. “It absolutely doesn’t make it better.”  
Bellamy laughed as he pulled on his jacket. “Alright then, I give up too. It’s a tie, nobody has to pay anything.”

Murphy flipped him off, but he earned a hug from Jasper.

As Clarke searched for her car keys in her bag, Murphy approached her.  
“Don’t you think you’ve had too much alcohol to drive?”  
She sighed. “I know, but I promised Raven I would take her home.”  
“I’ll take care of that”, he said turning around and helping their drowsy friend into her coat.

“Do you need a ride home?” She turned to see Bellamy behind her, keys jingling from his hand.  
“It’s just a few blocks, I can walk. But thank you for offering.”  
She knew he was about to insist, but Murphy cut him off. “If you really want to drive someone home, I’d worry about Jasper.” He said cocking his head to their friend, who was currently entranced by the cactus on the windowsill. “He seems pretty out of it.”  
Bellamy sighed. “Hey, Jasper? Let’s go home.”

Clarke mouthed a silent thank you to Murphy.

As they headed out, she could feel Bellamy’s gaze on her. She wanted to linger on how exactly she knew that without turning around or why it even mattered, but her brain was too muddled for a coherent internal monologue.  
“He’s worried about you.” Said Murphy, interrupting her thoughts.  
She sighed. “I know, but I can fend for myself. I’ve been doing that for six years.”  
“You weren’t alone, Clarke.” Her gaze softened and she wanted to tell him that she knows, but he continued. “Tell me, who are you trying to prove something to? Him or yourself?”  
She wanted to answer something witty and sarcastic but her brain felt too slow and jumbled to come up with anything satisfying. Instead, she countered “and why haven’t _you_ offered to drive me home, if you’re both so worried?”

He smirked at her as he led Raven toward the parking lot, not bothering to say goodnight. Somehow, she got the impression she’s played right into his trap.

She turned around to see Bellamy, arms around Jasper’s frame, holding him up.  
“You’re sure you don’t want that ride?” His eyes were concerned, and while she wanted to hold onto her pride and refuse his offer, she couldn’t bring herself to do so.

_It’s just a car ride anyway. Plus, it’s cold._

She nodded and they silently walked to his car. Jasper sat on the front and perked up immediately as the radio turned on, zapping through the stations in search of something to his liking, while Clarke gave Bellamy directions to her house from the backseat. When “Add it up” by Violent Femmes came up, Jasper started singing at the top of his lungs, pulling down his window, his face sticking out.

Clarke and Bellamy shared a smile through the rear-view mirror.

Then, surprisingly, he started singing along, his head bobbing in rhythm with the music, and she joined them, because why the hell shouldn’t she? Suddenly, she felt 17 again, jamming out with her friends, with Bellamy, without a care in the world. When the song ended, they laughed together, and all too soon the car pulled up in front of her apartment block.

“Thank you for the ride, Bell.”  
“No problem. Have a goodnight pr—Clarke.”  
Jasper gave her an awkward hug from the front seat, and then she was out of the car.

As she laid in bed, thoughts swimming haphazardly through her mind, she couldn’t help but wonder why he almost called her princess. Although she herself didn’t know what was more curious – the fact that he was about to, or that he stopped himself. He did that at the wedding, too, when he asked her to dance. So why did he stop himself tonight? She drifted into sleep without being able to give herself an answer.

The next morning, Clarke awakened with a start. The first thing she noticed was that everything was so damn _bright_ , which meant she must have slept in – and that she was hungover. The second, was that someone was insistently ringing at her doorbell.

She cursed under her breath, because of course Murphy would come to wake her up, to remind her that her car was still parked outside of his apartment block. As she got out of bed, putting on a robe that she couldn’t be bothered to close on top of her underwear, she couldn’t help but feel at the same time annoyed and fond at the guy who kept mothering her.

Except when she opened the door, it was Bellamy standing there, with a cup of coffee in his hand.

Now, Murphy’s seen her in her underwear before, and in much worse conditions than a bit of messy bed hair and a day-old make up, which is why she hadn’t bothered to make herself presentable. But when her eyes landed on the dark-haired man in front of her who is _very much not Murphy_ and _very much Bellamy_ , she could practically feel her synapses fire up as she fought the instinct of closing the door on his face and tightly wrapped up her robe around her frame as soon as she could.

For a moment, all they could do was stare at each other in embarrassment. Although his curls partially hid his ears, she could see them turning a bright red. She imagined her cheeks were of a similar shade.

He cleared his throat. “Hi. I—uh… Can I come in?”  
She nodded, finding herself unable to speak. As she opened the door, she quickly scanned the apartment for anything embarrassing that may be left lying around.  
“Make yourself at home, I’ll be right back.”

She dashed to her room, where she quickly put on trousers and the discarded henley from the night before, while she messily combed through her hair, trying to recover from the embarrassment.

When she went back to the living room, she found him sitting on her sofa, an easy smile on his face. However, she couldn’t help but notice that the tips of his ears were still flushing.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”  
She gave him a small smile, pouring herself a glass of water. Just as she started dwelling on how her head is pounding, he continued.  
“I brought you coffee. I remember it used to help you with hangovers – I just thought you would need it after last night.”

She stopped in her tracks, taken aback by the small gesture. Part of her told her that it’s just a coffee, but an even bigger part just wanted to start crying out of nowhere. Yes, it’s just a coffee, but it’s something so thoughtful, so _Bellamy_. Something he’d done so many times before he left, and that no one ever did after he was gone.

She turned slowly, blinking back the tears, fighting the wave of nostalgia that pulled at her heart.  
“Thank you. That’s very kind of you.” Her voice was croaky, but she hoped he would blame it on her hangover. She cleared her throat. “Can I offer you anything?”  
“No, I’m good, thanks.”

She sipped her coffee – black, no sugar, he remembered – near the kitchen counter, a safe distance away. The silence was awkward, but she didn’t know how to break it. The only thing she could think of asking him was when he would go back to the UK, but it felt wrong. He did a nice gesture for her, she didn’t want to dampen the mood.

“I recognise that,” Bellamy said suddenly, pulling Clarke away from her thoughts.  
“Uh? What?”  
He pointed with his head toward the drawing framed and hanging from the wall. The painting was a watercolour of a deer in a woodlands meadow. She had done the original drawing many years prior, when she was 16, but this watercolour was more recent – she painted it right after moving into the new apartment, when the pristine white of the walls had felt suffocating. She told herself that she had chosen that subject because it was pretty, colourful, and it gave her a sense of calm. She tried not to focus too much on _why_ it was so soothing.

His voice broke her away from her thoughts once more. “I remember it very vividly. It was the first time we went hiking alone, just the two of us.”  
She kept her gaze on the painted deer, afraid of what Bellamy would see in her eyes if she looked back at him. “Yeah. On Mount Weather. That was a good day.”  
“We should do it again. I haven’t been up there in such a long time. It should be quite pretty now, with the leaves turning red and all that.”

Clarke turned to him then. Sure, they had danced together at Octavia’s wedding, they had fun playing Risk with their friends, and she was grateful he brought her some coffee to deal with her hangover. However, the thought of spending an entire day, just the two of them, put her on edge. She wasn’t quite sure exactly where they stood with each other. She had admitted to herself that their friendship was worth rekindling, worth setting aside her grudges for – but suggesting something like _that_ , something that used to be normal a lifetime ago, was something she hadn’t expected. Plus, she hadn’t been to Mount Weather since that last time with Lexa.

He must have caught the hesitancy in her eyes, because he spoke again before she could answer. “We could go when I come back if you want to? Or we don’t have to go at all if you don’t feel like it.”  
She gave him a quizzical look. “Come back? From where?” The words were out of her mouth before she could understand what he meant.

_Oh. Of course, he’s going back._

He looked at her sheepishly, running a hand through his curls. “I’m going back to Oxford tomorrow.”  
She felt herself audibly swallow, nodding at him steadily, trying her best not to let her disappointment show. She had no right to be disappointed, after all. She focussed on her cup of coffee instead. “I see.”  
“I’ll only be away for a couple of weeks. Just the time to pack my things and ship them back here.”

It took her a moment to process his words, to realise what he was saying. “Wait, what? What about your post-doc?”  
He shrugged, giving her a small smile. “I’m almost finished with it, I can do it remotely. Then I guess I’ll just look for a job here.”  
She sat next to him then, concern etched on her face. “Bellamy…”  
“Clarke, don’t. I told you I would stay and I intend to keep that promise. I’m tired of running away.”

He eyed her so intensely that for a moment she didn’t know what to say. She studied him in silence, knowing that he was serious. Then, she sighed. “Bellamy, I told you already. I didn’t ask you to stay six years ago, I won’t do that now either. I don’t want you to. I want you to be happy and follow your dreams and– “

He took her hand in his, squeezing it tightly and making her stop mid-sentence. As they stared into each other’s eyes, she could feel the electricity buzzing between them, as it always used to. As if no time had passed for her body, which instantly recognised who it belonged to, reminding her of what it felt to be near Bellamy Blake, what it was to touch him – if only for a moment.

Suddenly, all she wanted to do was to kiss him. She felt a magnetic charge, pulling her in, making her lips want to crash up against his, leaving hot bruising marks in their wake.

She held it in, because she knew nothing good would come out of it. Because she knew if she kissed him now, he would kiss her back just as fervently, and they wouldn’t even make it to her bed before their clothes would be on the floor. It was quite shocking to know this with such certainty, when before he left she was so sure he would never see her like that. Regardless, angry, passionate sex was not the healthy way to deal with their problems – that much she knew.

She wanted to do things right this time. And as she looked up at him, seeing the resolution in his eyes, she wondered whether he felt the same way. So she sighed, pressing her lips tightly together as she looked away.

“I’m not staying because you’re asking me, Clarke.” He said, the seriousness in his voice forcing her to look him in the eyes again. “I decided to stay because I _want_ to.”  
Somehow, she believed him, perhaps against her better judgement. Maybe it was because her hand was still tightly held in his, or maybe it was the decided way he’d said it.

Yet, she pursed her lips, lightly biting onto the inside of her cheek as her eyes searched his for clarity, as if silently trying to communicate with him, to tell him he didn’t have to, or maybe to ask him if he was sure. When he sighed and his lips parted, his gaze moving to her mouth, she knew he felt it too – the magnetic pull between them. So she squeezed his hand one last time before getting up from the couch, reclaiming space between them.

“Thank you again for the coffee, Bellamy.” She knew he understood the finality of her tone.  
He sighed, briefly looking down, perhaps in disappointment, knowing whatever moment they were having is over. “It’s nothing, Clarke. It’s just a coffee.”  
“It’s not.” They shared one last look, before he moved towards the door.

But before he could leave, she called him back. “Bellamy?”  
He turned around, hand still on the doorframe. “Yeah?”  
“We can’t pretend nothing happened.”  
He sighed, looking at his feet once again. She couldn’t help but cursing him for making this so hard – though deep inside her she knew he was trying. “I know. And I know you need time, Clarke. I just wanted you to know I’ll be here when you’re ready, and I’ll still be here even if you’ll never be.”  
Clarke nodded silently. “I know that.” She wanted to tell him again how guilty she felt, having him turn his life around on the off chance their relationship – whatever it was – could be salvaged. But she didn’t, knowing that in the end, it was his decision to make.

He gave her a sympathetic smile before going out the door, leaving her wondering whether he could still read her mind the way he used to. 

***

In the week after the wedding, Bellamy thought back on his slow dance with Clarke far more times than he should have. For a moment, there, everything had seemed so very simple, as if they could leave their problematic past behind them, turn the metaphorical page.

Rationally, he was aware that it was not that simple.

But he felt that nagging feeling inside of him, a voice whispering that _maybe_ , just maybe, it was. After all, hadn’t he thought telling her he loved her was going to be an overwhelming, insurmountable task? Yet, in the cool evening air, with the sunset behind her turning her hair to strands of amber, it turned out to be simple, the words rolling naturally off his tongue. Like they should have six – no, more – years prior.

Instead, he had chosen to run. To forsake whatever he felt, leave it all behind, and look for happiness elsewhere.

_That didn’t turn out that well, now, did it?_

All he found, away from Clarke, away from his family, was that devastatingly lonely kind of solitude that turns a man bitter. All he achieved was to push away, perhaps for good, the person that mattered the most to him. All because he was scared.

He hadn’t really known what to expect when he saw her again for game night. Part of him had thought she wouldn’t show up. But of course she did, Clarke was not a coward like him. He thought maybe things would be awkward between them, after his confessions a week before. Yet, everything fell into place and it seemed like everyone had a good time.

He had to admit, it was nice to feel so at home. That’s what convinced him he was making the right choice.

When she opened her door, the morning after, and he saw her dishevelled and half-naked, his brain imagined what it would be like to wake up next to her every morning, to comb through her hair with his fingers. Then, when her first reaction was to cover herself up, he wondered whether she would have had done the same before he left – whether her shyness was because of the words they had exchanged at his sister’s wedding, or at him in general. Whoever she was expecting was definitely someone she didn’t feel self-conscious around.

He tried not to think of that.

She had extended an olive branch, one he did not expect and much less deserved. But Monty had been right – it was time to do better, to be someone who deserved Clarke’s forgiveness.

This was the motivation that made him climb on that flight, the look in her eyes haunting him the entire time. Bellamy was sure, in the bottom of his soul, that he would never forget the way she looked at him when he held her hand, sitting on her sofa, the cup of coffee in her hand and fire in her blue eyes.

For a moment there, he thought she would kiss him.

Perhaps it was for the best that she didn’t – they both needed time. He thought back on his Creative Writing lectures, the basic principle of “show, don’t tell”. All he had done was talking, it was time to start showing her.

And this was the motivation that pushed him to pack up his boxes, ship them all back home, go to the letting agency and sign an interruption of lease for the small one-bedroom house in the suburbs he’d been renting. It surprised him to realise that, in the years he had spent there, he hadn’t accumulated that many possessions – not that he had ever been a hoarder. Still, it was quite a depressing epiphany, to come back there and realise his house felt so lifeless, so impersonal.

So unlike Clarke’s – with the colourful paintings, warm rugs, lush greenery on hanging pots, and the faint smell of vanilla from a couple scented candles on the coffee table.

On Tuesday afternoon, he went to the faculty for a meeting with Prof. Kane, his supervisor. The two of them had developed a close relationship – he had been a mentor for Bellamy, in all effects, as well as the closest human connection he had kept during his time in England.

He had emailed him the previous Monday, telling him he wanted to move back to his hometown, where he would finish his post-doc write-up. He would come back to Oxford to present his finished research the following May, but besides that, this chapter of his life in the Old World was over. He knew it was unexpected, and suspected he would be disappointed; after all, Kane had taken him under his wings and launched him into a potentially successful career. He had invited him to talk in conferences, helped him publish articles, and introduced him to the most important people in the sector.

Instead, the answer to his email was far different than what he had expected.

_Dear Bellamy,_

_Thank you for your email. I am doing well and hope you are, too._

_We live in a world where young people are constantly pushed to aim to the very top, to look for fortune even when it takes them away from home, from family. However, sometimes we need to take some time away to re-centre ourselves, to answer the ultimate question of humankind: what is it that truly matters, to me, as a human?_

_You have been a fantastic student and apprentice in the past years, it really was a pleasure to have you here. Even if your chapter here is over, your journey doesn’t end here. Don’t feel bad for choosing your people over your career._

_An old friend of mine, Prof. Jaha, is the director of the History faculty at Arkadia University. If you wish to continue your journey in academia, I can put in a good word for you._

_I hope your sister’s wedding was enjoyable and that she is doing well. I am sure she will be ecstatic to have you close to her once more._

_Best wishes,_

_Prof. Marcus Kane_

In hindsight, his answer shouldn’t have surprised him – he couldn’t think of anyone as empathetic and introspective as his professor.

Tuesday was a rainy day, which was standard in early October. The drops were fine but falling densely, permeating the air like mist, turning the city in shades of grey. Autumn in Arkadia was spectacular – fresh air and crunchy leaves under your footsteps, red and yellow hues permeating the woods around the city. In England, it was just damp, cold, colourless. Suddenly, he didn’t know how he could have stayed there for so long.

He packed away his books and papers from his desk, took down the frame holding a photograph of O and him as kids, said his goodbyes to the few acquaintances in the department. Then, he knocked to Kane’s office.

“Bellamy? Come in.”

He sat in front of his desk, like he had done so many times before. “Thank you for seeing me today, prof.”  
Kane’s smile was bittersweet. “Don’t mention it. Are you all settled then? Packed everything up?”  
He gave him a nod. “Yeah, I am.”  
“Good, good.” He looked at him squarely then, as if trying to assess him, before something akin to pride flickered in his eyes. “It seems like going home was good for you. You have an air of confidence about you I hadn’t seen before.”

Bellamy gave him a sheepish smile, absentmindedly running a hand through his hair. “I guess. It was good to see my friends after so long.”  
“Not your sister?” The hint of amusement in his voice wasn’t lost on Bellamy.  
“Also my sister, of course.”

The smile on his professor’s face was open, almost fatherly. “I have no doubts you are perfectly capable to finish your research remotely. And I meant what I said about professor Jaha. Whoever it was that it was good to see, I hope she knows she’s lucky. Not everyone would uproot their lives so quickly.”  
It was Bellamy’s turn to smile, fondly, at how quickly he had him figured out. “You’ve got it backwards, I’m the lucky one.”

As he walked back under the rain, his boots splashing the puddles by the cobblestones, all he could think was how magical it would be to be hiking up to Mount Weather with Clarke once more.

Not much longer to wait – just five days and he will be home, and this time he’ll go there to _stay_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are _so close_ to the end! 
> 
> I wanted to fit everything into one chapter, I promise I really did, but it was becoming way too long lol
> 
> Sorry again for taking so long, I promise I will try to be faster next time. I am currently working on three other projects too, all of them for The 100 fics for BLM, but if you want me to move this story up my queue and update it quicker, you can do so through a donation (you can find out more on our carrd here [here](https://t100fic-for-blm.carrd.co/)). 
> 
> Come find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/juliet23writes) and [tumblr](https://juliet23writes.tumblr.com/), so we can squeal together about how cute Bellamy and Clarke are, or about how difficult it was for me to keep their clothes on during this chapter ;) 
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading! Thank you for all the comments, kudos, bookmarks, and subscriptions - every email update I receive brightens up my day! All the positive feedback from this fic is truly keeping me afloat in what is such a stressful time for me. 
> 
> Much love to all of you! <3


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